


Bother Me a Little Bit Longer

by patentpending



Series: So Long 'Verse [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Demisexuality, Divorce, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage, Morality | Patton Sanders-centric, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multiple Divorces, Multiple Marriages, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Unreliable Narrator, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: “I’m going to kill the two of you one of these days,” Logan said, stamping and notarizing yet another marriage certificate.  “You both know I could get away with it.”Patton just giggled, leaning into his snakey sweetheart’s side.  “Don’t worry, Lo.  It’ll last this time, pinky promise.”They were back with divorce papers a week later.Patton pretended he didn’t notice the way Logan’s eye twitched.Where Patton and Janus get married and divorced a few (dozen) times, confirm their places as The Dads of Thomas's mind, argue (a lot), kiss (also a lot), and fall in love along the way.
Relationships: Morality | Patton Sanders & Everyone, Morality | Patton Sanders / Deceit | Janus Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: So Long 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794970
Comments: 321
Kudos: 881





	1. Unholy Matrimony

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the lonely eyes dynamic from tma, watched the most recent episode of Sanders Sides, and just kinda went 'huh.'
> 
> tws for morally gray all sides, unreliable narrator, food, mild body horror, Remus-typical behavior, threat of poison, alcohol, drunkenness, The Split, and talk of murder

“I’m going to kill the two of you one of these days,” Logan said, stamping and notarizing yet another marriage certificate. “You both know I could get away with it.”

Patton just giggled, leaning into his snakey sweetheart’s side. “Don’t worry, Lo. It’ll last this time, pinky promise.”

They were back with divorce papers a week later.

Patton pretended he didn’t notice the way Logan’s eye twitched.

  
  


It started when they were young, and Creativity had just found out what, exactly, that thing that bonded Thomas’s parents was. He was buzzing with energy, flitting around the sunshine-drenched fields of the imagination, chattering about white veils and suits and sweets you got to eat afterwards.

“I wanna wedding,” he announced, plopping down on the checkered picnic blanket the rest of the sides were sprawled across, lazy with food and heat.

“Really?” Lying drawled. “I thought you were talking about it for the last hour because you didn’t care about them at all.”

“I’m serious,” Creativity whined, rolling over onto his stomach and kicking his feet.

“Really?” Kindness grinned. “I thought you were Romulus!”

Creativity blew a raspberry at him, then refocused. “I think we should have a wedding. That means we get cake after!”

“We’ve already had cake today,” Logic said, gesturing to the picnic’s scattered remnants. “If we have too much, our stomach will hurt.”

“We’re not old enough to get married,” Fear mumbled, from where he was curled up with his knees to his chest. “And if you get married, you’re stuck with someone forever and ever.”

“No one said you had to get married,” Creativity said, impetuously, before pointing triumphantly at Lying and Kindness. “They do!”

“Nuh-uh!” Kindness said, puffing out his cheeks. “Lying’s got cooties.”

“I don’t!” Lying protested, then blanched. “Uh… I… do…?”

“Pleeeeeease?” Creativity made his eyes wide and brimming. “You two already act the most like Thomas’s parents! It’s gotta be you.”

“Better not,” Lying huffed, crossing his arms. “Wouldn’t wanna give him cooties.”

Kindness’s face crumpled, and he launched himself at Lying, wrapping him in a hug. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’ve got…” He gestured vaguely. 

“These?” Lying scratched at the small patch of scales that had recently cropped up high on his cheek. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“You don’t have cooties,” Kindness said, firmly, then, after Creativity huffed, tapping his foot: “and I’m gonna marry you to prove it!”

Lying pondered this for a moment, then nodded, finding it an acceptable apology. “M’kay.”

Creativity cheered, launching himself into the woods and pulling out long branches, lashing them together with summoned ribbons to make an arch. At his behest, Fear carefully weaved a flower crown for each of the betrothed, lopsided and messy, but nestling proudly on their heads. Logic busied himself with a thick book on proper wedding etiquette and complained loudly whenever Creativity tried to do something wrong.

“Okay, so first we throw flowers at you two!” Creativity said, a sunflower in each hand.

“It’s supposed to be flower petals,” Logic objected. “And they go on the carpet before the bride.”

“Well, we don’t have a carpet _or_ a bride,” Creativity pointed out.

Logic considered this carefully, nodded, then threw a snapdragon at Lying.

Eventually, they settled down on the lush grass, patiently enduring Creativity’s long rambling speech about how they were ‘gathered in holy macaroni’, for the bonding of two sides.

Fear fell asleep in the grass, curled up, and only hissed when Creativity tried to remove the woven-straw rings from his hands.

It seemed, for one perilous moment, that this would ruin the whole ordeal, but then Logic pulled the wire handles from the picnic basket, and twisted them into two rings. Crisis averted, they thanked him, then returned to the ceremony.

Fear was just waking up, rubbing at his groggy eyes, when Creativity proudly proclaimed, “you may now kiss the groom!”

Kindness and Lying eyed each other warily for a second.

“Do we have to?” Kindness said.

“Not that we don’t want to,” Lying hedged, “but….”

“Right,” Kindness nodded emphatically. “Exactly.”

Creativity crossed his arms, foot stomping the ground. “It’s how it’s ‘upposed to go!”

There was a distant roll of thunder, and Kindness plastered on a bright smile.

“Oh, okay then!” He turned to Lying and took a deep breath before puffing out his cheeks, eyes skewed tight and lips pursed expectantly.

Lying looked skeptically between the clouds rolling in on the horizon and Kindness before leaning forward, and pressing a quick smack to his cheek.

The dark horizon immediately receded, and Creativity giggled, falling to the ground with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

“You kissed Kindness!” He sing-songed. “Lying and Kindness are married~”

“Only because you made me!” Lying hissed, and tackled Creativity, who just laughed and tussled harmlessly with him. They rolled down the hill, shouting and laughing all the way, and eventually Logic sighed, picking up the still-sleeping Fear and following them.

But Kindness just stood there, one small hand pressed against his hot cheek, wondering why it felt like butterflies had hatched in his belly and were crawling over each other, tickling his sides with their paper-thin wings.

It was just another part of their play, running over the endless green fields of Thomas’s mind, young enough that food and shelter would appear whenever they thought it should, when it was fair to, back when they thought ‘fair’ was how things worked. It was just another silly thing they did, and the sacred laws of matrimony passed between the two sides only lasted as long as the sun-drenched afternoon.

So it really shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise that the thought of it didn’t cross Patton’s mind for over a decade, after unbridled Creativity had to be reduced into his two halves, and Lying became the snake-faced Deceit, and Logic became Logan, and Fear reappeared with smudges under his eyes and the new name Anxiety.

He was cleaning out his room when it happened, humming to himself and wiping away tears as he flipped through scrapbooks, when a small, twisted circle of wire fell out. He picked it up, frowning. It was tiny, warped and brittle with age, and it wasn’t until he found it could barely fit on the tip of his pinky that the memory of that sun-drenched ceremony hit his mind with all the force of a bomb.

“Oh,” Patton said, feeling his stomach sink. “Oh s–”

“–hit me with that one more time, Patty-cakes?” 

Romu– Roman. He was Roman now, however often Patton looked at him and found remnants of someone he used to know. It was Roman who was sitting on the couch, wearing a white shirt, red sash, and gobsmacked expression.

“I think I’m married,” Patton groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “To Deceit.”

“Ah,” Logan said, nodding crisply. “You’re referring to the event that occurred fifteen years, four months, eight days and forty-two seconds ago.”

“Right!” Patton said. “All I remember is–” Patton cut himself off, blinking owlishly at Logan. “Wait. _You_ remember?”

“Of course.” Logan adjusted his tie. “I’ll confess I did always find it rather strange the two of you never exchanged nuptial gifts, but if you’re the sort of spouse to forget such a momentous occasion–”

“You remember?!” Patton cried again. “And you never _told_ me I was married to _Deceit?”_

Logan considered this for a moment. “Correct.”

Patton collapsed onto the couch, groaning. “Why,” he said, voice muffled, “did you never tell me?”

“It was never relevant.”

Patton pushed himself up with a sigh. “Okay. okay.” He huffed out a sigh, pushing his hands through his hair. “I guess I’m just going to have to… annul it?”

“The legal limit for an annulment in Florida is two years.” Logan flipped a page in his book.

“We’re not regular people!” Patton exclaimed, waving his hands. “Can’t we just do it anyway?”

Logan shot him a severe glare. “You may not take the legal limits of the Florida nuptial system seriously, Patton, but I most certainly do.”

“Fine, fine.” Patton buried his face in his hands. “I guess I’ll just… ask for a divorce.”

“And have to actually face those accursed dark sides?!” Roman demanded, standing. “Never fear, dearest Patton, I shall go down and wrest the agreement from that slimy, scaled sycophant myself!”

Romulus brandished his sword in the air, and Patton stifled a flinch.

“No!” He barked, then again, coughing and shuffling his feet when Roman shot him a confused look. “No,” he said, flashing a plastic smile. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, kiddo! You just gotta trust your silly ol’ dad will just _pop_ on down and work all this out, alright?”

A pout puckered Roman’s lips, but he put his sword away. “Of course I do, pop-cicle.”

“Good.” Patton crept forward and ruffled Roman’s hair, a smile fixed in place. “Why don’t you just work on that new musical of yours, champ? If you check the kitchen, I even made ya a fluffer-nutter for that final creative _marsh.”_

Roman brightened, practically wiggling. “Oh, my favorite!”

The tension didn’t leave Patton’s shoulders until he was gone from the room, the door safely shut behind.

There was a stairway between the light side’s commons and the murky lair of the dark sides, as Roman had taken to calling them. They were deeper down in the subconscious, where Thomas didn’t have to look at or think about them at all.

It was better that way.

For everyone.

Goosebumps rioted on Patton’s arms as the air grew darker, colder, closer, the further down that twisting, winding staircase he traversed.

The door at the bottom was small, painted with chipping black paint. Patton hastily rapped on it before tucking safely back against his side.

No response came, and he frowned, knocking once more. “Hello? It’s Morality. Anyone home?”

“Why, hello there, Daddy~” The door screeched open, and the other creativity stood, lounging against the frame, grinning through his too-sharp teeth. “What brings you down here? Those Lights get too vanilla for your tastes?”

Patton’s chest froze. _Romulus, with his too-wide grin and his messy curls –_

“What have I told you about antagonizing guests, dear?” An oil slick-smooth voice snapped Patton out of his head, and Deceit slithered up, but now Patton was shocked for an entirely new reason.

“Deceit!” He squeaked out. “How are you? You look. Um…”

“Gorgeous, aren’t I?” The other side bit out, scratching at the scales that slithered half his face, yellow eye eerily still even as the other swiveled. “Remus, darling, do be a dear and get something for our guest to drink.”

Remus giggled. “I do hope you like Drano!”

He scampered off, and Deceit’s gaze followed after him, right until he disappeared into the kitchen.

“They’re different, aren’t they?”

“That’s the point,” Patton said, stiffly. “They’re not supposed to be him.”

“Yes,” Deceit drawled. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t _want–”_ Patton huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “That’s not the point. I’m sure my visit _scales_ in comparison to whatever you were doing, but I’m not here to talk about… that.”

“What do you want, then, Morality? I know we’re the _best_ of friends and all, but I’m afraid this most… irregular.”

“It has come to my attention,” Patton said, carefully. “That we are… married.”

Deceit blinked. Patton hadn’t been entirely sure he could do that.

“Run that by me again?” Deceit said, an edge of something like hysteria warping his silken voice. “Because I’m quite certain I misheard you.”

“We’re married, Deceit,” Patton said.

**_“YOU ARE?!”_ **

A warm sack of meat barreled into Patton and Deceit, tackling them to the ground in a bear hug. “You guys!” Remus chirped. “Why didn’t you tell me? I totally wouldn’t have tried to poison your _husband_ before he could get that double D!”

“‘Poison’?” Deceit repeated.

“‘Double D’?” Patton squeaked.

“Husband!” Remus cheered. “See, we can all repeat words.”

“I’m not…” Patton wiggled out from under the two dark sides, standing and brushing himself off with an embarrassed cough and training his eyes somewhere above their heads. “I’m not his _husband._ I was just here to… to ask for a divorce.”

Remus blinked, then slowly leaned over to Deceit, whispering: “so… is that a yes on the Drano?”

Deceit slithered to his feet, movements liquid. “It’s alright, Remus. Why don’t you go show Anxiety that new musical you’ve been working on, hm? I’ve got everything under control. Trust me.”

“‘Kay!” Remus smacked a wet, obnoxious kiss against his cheek. “See ya later, Mama _deceit_ a!”

Patton stood there, arms crossed, eyes trained on the floor until Remus skittered into the other room, humming the strains of an opening overture under his breath.

“So,” Deceit drawled, making no movement to welcome Patton inside, “I don’t suppose you want to explain yourself?”

Patton flashed a sheepish grin, rubbing at his elbow. “Well, do you remember when _he_ was still around, and learned what a marriage was?”

“Yes, obviously.” Deceit rolled his eyes. “Who doesn’t remember every inane game they played as–” He cut himself off with another rare blink. “Ah.”

“‘Ah’ exactly,” Patton echoed.

“Right, then.” Deceit adjusted himself, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “Where do I sign?”

Patton’s eyebrows scrunched. “Sorry?”

“Oh, you’re right. It would’ve been silly to bring divorce papers when asking someone for a divorce.”

“Right, right, I’ve got them here” – Patton waved the manilla folder in his hand – “but I just didn’t expect you to…”

“Yes, because I’ve got _nothing_ better to do with my time than keep you trapped in marriage to a side you can barely stand to look at.” Deceit scoffed. “I’m not a monster, Patton, no matter what you’ve convinced yourself.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Patton protested, automatically.

“Really?” Deceit’s voice was dry. “My mistake. I’m sure there’s some other, perfectly legitimate reason you haven’t made eye contact with me this whole time.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” Patton dug his nails into his palm, shoving his gaze up to meet the other side’s, the golden shine of his steady eye, the night-velvet dark of the other, twisting and shining with all the emotion that never crept through in his voice. “I think you’re lovely.”

His voice was far too soft, and Deceit hissed, snatching up the paperwork and scribbling his signature, then shoving it back at Patton.

“If all you intend to do is mock me,” he hissed, placing a hand in the middle of Patton’s chest and _shoving,_ “then you’re welcome to do that in your own space.”

He slammed the door shut.

Patton was left, sprawled on the cold floor, head spinning, papers scattered around him, with a strange, burning feeling in the middle of his chest.

He signed the papers himself, filed them with Logan, and went to bed with a twisting stomach.

And, really, that should have been the end of it.

  
  


And, for a year or so, it was.

But then Patton found Deceit in Logan’s library, curled up in a plush armchair, a glass of red wine in one hand and a battered book in the other.

“Deceit,” he said, stopping dead in his tracks. “What are you– I mean, it sure has got me _snake_ n up to see you here!” He fixed his plastic smile, injecting bubbles into his voice. “Are you waiting for Logan? He’s in the commons. I’m sure he’d rather you find him there than wait here. He’s kinda particular about his library, you know.”

“He lets me come up here.” Deceit didn’t even bother looking up from his book, taking a sip of wine and flipping another page.

And Patton Knew it was true, just as people often Knew things in Logan’s room, so he just gritted his smile and kept walking, looking for the battered cookbook somewhere in the back.

“He, at least, understands.”

Something in his voice made Patton stop, glancing over his shoulder.

“Understands what?”

There was a coy smile snaking across the Dark Side’s face, like he knew a secret he wasn’t keen on sharing. “All the shades of gray there are.”

Patton looked at him, silent, for a long moment. “Why are you here, Deceit?”

“It’s nice, getting a break from the kids once in a while.” Deceit’s mouth twitched with something like a smile. “Then again, I suppose I’m preaching to the choir here.”

“It’s no bother, taking care of them all the time,” Patton said, stiffly.

“Right, because there’s no joy in life like taking care of squabbling children and never taking time for yourself.” Deceit rolled his eyes.

“How are they, then?” Patton found himself asking. “I’ve been seeing Anxiety around more often.”

“Yes.” The curve of Deceit’s mouth soured. “I’m sure you have.”

“What, don’t like him running off without you?” Patton couldn’t help a small click of his tongue. Over-involvement was just bad parenting. “He can make his own decisions, you know.”

The sour twist turned into a full snarl. “Trust me, Morality. I’m not the one who makes decisions for others.”

Patton startled, turning fully to face the other side. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re _wonderful_ at it, truly, but do me a favor this once, and don’t play dumb, hm?” Every line of Deceit’s body was rigid, his gloves straining at the seams from how hard his hands clenched around his book. “Or am I just being silly? However could anyone accuse our sweet, innocent, _perfect_ Morality of making… drastic decisions?”

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying,” Patton said, lowly.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Why is it that you always try to pick a fight with me?”

“Public service. Someone’s gotta do it, after all.”

“What,” Patton gritted out, “is your _problem?”_

“He was a child,” Deceit hissed. “And you destroyed him. You split him in half, and shoved the part you didn’t like down a dark hole, and shoved me after when I disagreed with you.”

“We were all children,” Patton snapped. “We were dumb kids who didn’t know what we were doing until it was too late. What did you expect? The things Romulus was saying, what he was doing, went against everything Thomas had ever been taught. It wasn’t _right_ to keep him around. I had to keep Thomas safe.”

“So you killed him.”

“I didn’t–” Patton snarled, before taking a deep breath, smoothing his shirt and rearranging his features. “I didn’t kill him, Deceit. He’s still here. He’s just different now.”

“Yes,” Deceit drawled. “Both of him.”

Patton crossed his arms over his chest as Deceit rose, prowling over to Logan’s philosophy section. 

“You know,” he drawled, flipping open a book and paging through it. “Physical reductionists believe that personal identity is rooted in the body, often in the physical mass of the brain. A person is only themself as long as enough of the brain is physically continuous with the person they originally were. So if only half of someone’s brain was left, they’d still be themself. But let’s say someone’s brain was split, and put into two different bodies. Assuming the hemispheres were equally balanced, we would say they’re both the original person, as they’re identical to the previous case. But how can they _both_ be the previous person?”

“Yes, and psychological reductionism says that physical mass isn’t important, just direct psychological continuity of memories, character traits, and personality. What’s your point?”

Deceit’s head snapped up from the book, and he stared at Patton for a moment, mouth ever so slightly agape.

Patton stole the bottle of wine resting on the side table and took a swig from it. It was acerbic, bracing. “You’re not the only one who can _rattle_ around some old books, you know.”

“I know,” Deceit said, in a tone that very much implied he didn’t. “I just… wouldn’t expect you to.”

Patton took another sip, not thinking about sleepless nights, and tidal waves of guilt, and vainly trying to find refuge in the words of people who were supposed to know better than he did.

“Well then,” Deceit continued. “How do you respond to the allegations that psychological continuity doesn’t account for a duplication clause, counselor?”

Patton almost smiled. “Well…” 

Time found them sprawled on the plush carpet, the bottle of wine nearly gone between them, leaning against the armchair.

“...which is why it doesn’t make sense!” Patton’s voice was softened with the wine, vowels rounded with the beginnings of a slur, syllables weighted down by the cotton in his head. “You’re saying that one is the original if he’s continuous, but they both are! And your… your personal identity can’t depend on what– what’s happening in another room. How can who you are be so tied up in someone else, that they make you a whole new person?”

“And now you’re contradicting the point you made originally.” Deceit snorted, softly. “Do you even know which side you’re arguing for?”

Patton looked at him, steadily, passing the bottle back over. “Do you?”

Deceit took a swig, the lines of his neck long and elegant, fingers wrapped coyly around the neck.

“I meant it, you know,” Patton said, softly. “When I said you were gorgeous.”

Deceit snorted. “You never did grow out of Kindness, did you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not bad.” Deceit handed back the bottle, fingers brushing. “Just… dangerous.”

There was too much; too much in Deceit’s mismatched eyes, too much in the timbre of his voice, too much in the heat of his skin.

“What about soul theorists, then,” he blurted. “People who say who you are is something ultimate. Something that isn’t physical.”

“Where’s his soul then, Patton?” Deceit murmured, face very close to his and breath heady with wine. “Which one of them has it?”

Patton laughed, resting the side of his heavy head against the leg of the armchair. It felt scratchy against his cheek, unreal in the soft dream he had found himself in. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Souls can’t split, though, can they?” Deceit continued, resting his cheek against the other leg. His scales slid against each other, glistening. “They’re not real. You can’t prove a soul exists.”

“Of course they do,” Patton protested. “Don’t you _lobe_ the idea there’s something more to you than a bunch of squiggly ‘lil brain cells?”

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t.” Deceit shrugged. His eyes were bright, soft and shining golden in the low light. “But I don’t think it’s a soul, the way society thinks of it. All that drama about two souls becoming one through marriage, or soulmates being the missing half of the other’s soul – that’s a bigger fraud than I am.”

Patton watched Deceit, sprawled carelessly on the rug of Logan’s library like he belonged there – like he belonged everywhere – in slim-cut trousers and black brogues and yellow gloves that teased at the skin of his wrists, slipping into and out of view. One hand was splayed on his leg, the other wrapped around the wine bottle’s neck. He had a ribbon in his hat. A nearly-healed scab on his bottom lip. The air of someone who could probably ruin Patton’s life.

“Prove it, then,” someone said, and Patton realized it was him. “Marry me.”

Those mismatched eyes widened. “What?”

“Marry me,” Patton said again, moving closer until their faces were a breath apart. “Nothing we haven’t done before. Marry me, Deceit.”

Deceit’s lips were wine-stained red, wet, and Patton stared at them as they shaped a single word: “Alright.”

So he kissed him.

And kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

Logan Sanders took pride in his sleeping schedule. He arose at exactly seven forty every morning, worked the whole day through, until eleven at night, then took twenty five minutes to engage in leisure activities to promote levels of serotonin conductive to a healthy sleeping pattern before retiring to bed at eleven thirty and falling asleep by eleven forty.

So, needless to say, when a rapping came on his door at exactly one thirty-two in the morning, he was rather irritated.

“What,” he snapped, slamming the door open, then drawing his eyebrows together. “What?”

Before him stood Patton and Deceit, clearly intoxicated and swaying, arms around each other and bleary looks of determination fixed on their faces.

“We’re gettin’ married,” Patton said, then took a moment to look pleased with his own eloquence.

“Yesssss,” Deceit hissed, and Logan couldn’t tell if the elongated syllables were due to his reptilian features or inebriation. “We’re making a wonderful decision in full coh… coherentence. Cohesion. Coherion.”

“Right.” Logan blinked. “I am going to judge, based on your current level of faculties, that you are not in the right mind space to make such a momentous decision, and refuse to offer whatever sort of help you need from me. Good night.”

He made to shut the door, but Deceit wedged his foot in the frame.

“Oh Loooogan,” he drawled. “You’re losin’ sleep as we speak. And if ya don’t… don’t wanna…”

“Help,” Patton supplied.

“Help!” Deceit agreed, shooting a dangerously conspiratorial look down at him. “We're gonna make you lose even more.”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Very well.”

He trudged into his room, rifling through his desk and ignoring the suspiciously amorous sounds coming from the other sides, before returning with a marriage certificate.

“If you would be so obliging as to sign here and here.”

The document was signed with crooked hands, and Patton and Deceit were, once more, married.

“Yay!” Patton cheered, then proceeded to kiss Deceit soundly. “I told you souls were real.”

Logan made to ask before deciding his curiosity wasn’t worth his sanity.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to require the two of you to stay here tonight,” he said, firmly. “You’ve already proven yourselves in a less than sound state, and I shudder to think of what other mischief the two of you could produce in such a manner.”

Patton, seemingly now content, shrugged and plopped himself down on the carpet.

“C’me here, Dee,” he said, making grabby hands.

The snake coiled up next to him, and Patton nestled against his chest. Within minutes, they were passed out on the ground.

Logan sighed, carefully arranging them on their sides, before finally, blissfully returning to a sleep of his own.

Logan was awoken by screeching.

“LOGAN?!” Patton’s face was suddenly above his own, flushed and panicked. “You married us?!”

“Yes,” Logan said, wondering if it was worth it to explain the logic behind needing to minimize change to his sleeping routine, in order to negate negative impacts on his circadian rhythm.

“Divorce us,” Deceit, looking pale, hissed, gloved hands clutching the certificate. “Now.”

Logan pulled a pillow over his head and decided he could sleep in, just this once.


	2. My Ex-Husband Still Misses Me (But His Aim Is Getting Better)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Anxiety is accepted, assault is attempted, the legal definition of parenthood is debated, Virgil suffers, and there is Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for alcohol, food, attempted violence, and minor injury

“Morning, kiddos!” Patton chirped, bustling around the breakfast table with plates of pancakes. “Blueberry for Ro, Crofters for Lo, plain for Virge, and chocolate-chip for Dad!”

He dropped each plate off with a kiss on the cheek or ruffle of the hair for each side, then stepped back, hands on his hips, smiling. “Everything good?”

There were general murmurs of agreement, and the earlier conversation faded away to the click of cutlery against plates.

It had been a wild few months since Patton and Deceit’s most recent divorce.

Anxiety had been hanging around the Light Sides more and more often, and, ever since he ducked out and was returned home a few weeks ago, Patton couldn’t be happier to have Virgil officially become one of his kiddos.

Beyond the occasional glimpse of a yellow eye whenever Thomas had to hastily agree that ‘yes, that’s so your color’, or ‘ah, sorry, I forgot all about it!’ Patton hadn’t seen Deceit anywhere.

Which, to be fair, was probably for the best. He wasn’t sure what had come over him that night. Muddled with wine as he was, that was no excuse to let the more… unsavory aspects of Thomas come creeping around. He’d have to have a gentle chat with Lo about safety in the future.

And if he couldn’t stop thinking about a sly, smirking mouth, and gleaming, mismatched eyes, and a smooth, drawling voice, well. That was no one’s fault but his own. Better to forget about it all and move on.

So Patton busied himself with housekeeping, and taking care of all his kiddos, and making sure Virgil felt welcome, and generally Not Thinking About It.

To his credit, he was doing well until Deceit tried to punch him.

Patton narrowly managed to duck out of the way when the yellow-clad fist came flying at his face.

“Wha–” He stumbled backwards, catching himself on the opposite wall and looking up, bewildered. “Deceit?!”

“What’s that,” the side spat, “some new condiment?”

He was swaying on his feet, shaking. Patton had no idea how long he had been lurking here, in the hallway outside Patton’s room, but the exhaustion in the set of his shoulders told him it had been a while.

“Are…” Patton squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”

“Because you _so_ have room to act so scandalized, Morality.” Deceit sneered, tucking his arms back under his cloak. “But no, for your information. I’m stone-cold sober and right as rain.”

“Right,” Patton cautiously took a step closer, then another when it became apparent Deceit wasn’t going to do anything more than hiss at him. His eyes were clear, and there was no sharp stench of alcohol on him, but still, he looked unsteady. “When was the last time you slept?”

“And if I say I don’t remember, what then?” Deceit bared his teeth, elongated fangs gleaming dully. “Going to take me to jail for resisting _a-rest,_ officer?”

From the look on his face, the laugh that bubbled out of Patton’s throat surprised Deceit just as much as Patton.

“Sorry, I didn’t. Um.” Patton flashed a grimace that could’ve passed for a smile, if you squinted. “Good one?”

“Oh, you know I _live_ for your amusement.” Deceit took an unsteady step forward, wobbling, then pressed his back against the wall and coiled down onto the ground. “We _all_ just _adore_ you, you know. Everyone loves you more than anyone else in the whole _fucking world-”_

His fist slammed into the wall.

He retracted it with a hiss, shaking his wrist. Patton waited, but he didn’t say anything more, just sat there, shaking, glaring up at Patton like he wore an executioner’s hood.

“Deceit, I don’t…” Patton started before a cold chill of realization settled in his chest.

“Is this about Virgil?” he asked, softly.

“It’s not _fair,”_ Deceit snarled. “I _raised_ him, I did _everything_ for him, I _love_ him, and you show up with your smiles and your ‘kiddo’s and he just…”

He cut himself off, burying his face in his hands, and Patton realized with a horrible sinking in his gut, that Deceit was crying.

“Hey, hey,” Patton cooed, settling down awkwardly next to him. “It’s alright. You don’t have to…”

“Stop,” Deceit hissed, wiping furiously at his eyes. “Stop it with the platitudes and the kindness and the ‘I don’ts’. Because you know what, Morality? It’s not ‘I don’t’. It’s ‘I can’t’. I can’t do a damn thing. I can’t see Virgil because you’ve got your claws into him, I can’t bring him back because you’d never let me, and I can’t break down, however fucking _helpless_ I feel because Remus needs me! So I can’t cry when I’m making him blueberry pancakes, and I can’t scream when I’m doing the housekeeping, and I can’t run up here and _beg_ him to tell me what I did wrong when _you’re_ here and I can’t…”

He took a deep breath, shoulders heaving under his caplet. “I can’t stand to even think about you, most of the time.

“So, with all these _‘can't’s_ , I thought to myself, you know what I can do?” He laughed, an edge of hysteria in the sound. “I can climb up all those god damn steps and punch Morality Sanders in his smug, freckled face.”

“Oh, Deceit,” Patton said, gently, but the snake just flashed his fangs.

“I said _stop,”_ he snarled. “Stop acting like you _care_ when you so clearly don’t.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Oh, you’re right,” Deceit hissed. “The only thing you’ve ever been to us ‘dark sides’ is kind. Thank you so much, by the way, for never letting us talk to Thomas. Thomas, you know, our whole reason for existence. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate being shut in the back of his mind, moldering away.”

“You’re the one who deals with repression,” Patton shot back. “You could come up any time you like.”

Deceit smiled with sharp fangs and no joy. “So if Remus ever came up to visit his brother, there’d be no problem? If I ever talked to Thomas directly, the moral system you drill into his head wouldn’t have him turn me away?”

“Well, maybe, but…” Patton floundered. “That doesn’t mean I want you _hurting.”_

Deceit threw back his head and laughed, a wild hissing sound. “Oh, Morality, you are such a _treat.”_

He leaned closer until their noses were brushing, and Patton swallowed hard, willing himself not to move.

“We are hurting,” he hissed. “You’re the one hurting us.”

“No,” Patton said, firmly. “I’m not. I’m keeping Thomas safe, keeping him _good,_ and that helps all of us.”

“All that denial,” Deceit sighed, breath warm against Patton’s cheek. “And to think I used to not know why I couldn’t stay away from you.”

“Was punching me really going to make you feel better?” 

Deceit snorted. “Can’t blame a side for trying.”

“Maybe try something else,” Patton suggested, wryly. “If just so my nose _nose_ it’s safe.”

Deceit huffed out a sigh, backing away and leaning his head back against the wall, tight curls pushing out from under his hat. “Yes, because there are a _plethora_ of other options open to me,” he drawled. “I could always kill you and take your place. Or maybe I could hypnotize Virgil and make him forget whatever it was I did wrong. Or I could invent a time machine and replace my past self so I can not mess up next time. Or I could marry you so I’m legally his dad again. You know, all rational, reasonable things.”

He looked so tired, suddenly, with the hallway lights drawing out the shadows under his eyes and the defeat in his expression doing nothing to hide the sallow sheen to his normally vibrant complexion.

“Alright,” Patton said. “That sounds doable.”

Deceit blinked, slowly. “Time travel?”

“No,” Patton said, standing up and brushing the wrinkles out of his khakis. “Being his dad again, legally speaking.”

“Morality,” Deceit drawled, squinting at him. “Should I be asking about _your_ state of inebriation?”

“I’m just doing the right thing.” Patton shrugged, reaching a hand out for the other side.

He ignored it, drawing himself up and pressing his back against the wall, flashing wary glances at Patton.

“All I want,” Patton continued, regardless, “all I’ve _ever_ wanted is to be as good a person as I can be, and help Thomas do the same. And if someone is upset, and I can change that, then I have to change that, don’t I?”

“Right, because the entire Earth’s happiness rests on _your_ shoulders alone,” Deceit drawled.

“Well, I didn’t _planet_ that way, but…” Patton laughed to himself, softly. “Why shouldn’t I do what I can to make things just a little better?”

“And how many times?” Deceit tilted his head, serpentine. “How often are you going to do something you don’t want to for someone else?”

“At least this once.” Patton shrugged, crossing his arms. “Besides, would I have offered if I didn’t want to?”

“Yes,” Deceit said, softly. “I really think you would.”

Patton, try as he might, didn’t know what to say to that.

Deceit cleared his throat, adjusting his cape and looking away. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t truly agree to. At least… not this sort of thing. Besides, we don’t even have rings.”

“Ah.” Patton held up a finger. “Hold that thought.”

Patton darted inside his room, ignoring Deceit’s mutter of ‘Remus isn’t here, though’. He rifled through his desk’s drawers, digging into the small chest of Thomas’s childhood favorites, and…

 _“Taa-daa,”_ Patton proclaimed, proudly sliding the Ring Pop onto Deceit’s finger.

“Wow,” the snake deadpanned, examining it. “What a gem. You must’ve really broke the bank with this one.”

“Pretty _sweet_ right?” Patton, grinning, gave Deceit another one, holding out his hand expectantly.

“You’re entirely sane and sober,” Deceit muttered acerbically, taking Patton’s hand and sliding the ring on with a roll of his eyes.

“Come on, they’re good!” Patton protested. “See?”

He raised Deceit’s hand and gave a tiny kitten lick to the top of his Ring Pop.

All the oxygen left the room.

“Oh,” Patton gasped, hastily. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

He looked up, but Deceit’s eyes were dark with something other than anger. There was a red stain spreading across the human half of his face. He looked like Patton had punched the air from his lungs.

“What the hell,” Deceit said, hoarsely, “am I supposed to do with you?”

Patton just smiled, repositioning his hand in Deceit’s so their fingers were linked. 

“Marry me,” he said, and kissed him.

Logan was no more happy to see them this time around.

Once was a mistake. Twice was strange. Three times had all the horrible beginnings of a pattern.

“We’re fine!” Patton insisted, before huffing into a breathalyzer.

“I’m absolutely wasted,” Deceit deadpanned, taking a break from reciting the alphabet backwards and walking in a straight line.

“You are entirely, completely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, irrefutably, unequivocally _certain_ both of you want this?” Logan asked, dubiously squinting at the breathalyzers’ read out.

“Yes!” Patton exclaimed, going to Deceit’s side and linking their hands.

Deceit startled, looking down at where they were joined, then to Patton, then Logan, then down again.

“Very well then,” Logan sighed, pulling out the overly-familiar folder from his desk drawer. “Please know that I am still available to mediate divorces, but shall be extremely perturbed.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Deceit drawled.

“Fine then.” Logan filled out the paperwork, then let them sign. 

“Oh, and by the way?” He called before they left. “I do hope the two of you will be getting proper rings.”

They did, indeed, end up getting real rings, with just a quick request from Patton of ‘hey, Roman, can you do me a weird favor without asking any questions?’ and a similarly quick answer of ‘Patton, is that not the foundation of our friendship?’

Patton rather liked them, not that he quite wanted to admit it. They were simple, shining gold, with a heart engraved on the inside of Deceit’s and an eye on Patton’s, the symbols nestling discretely against their skin.

And, for a while, it was alright.

Patton and Deceit were… cordial, if not friendly, but there always seemed to be less of a weight on the snake’s shoulders, whenever Patton saw him.   
  


That, of course, was when they missed Joan’s show.

Patton was a little embarrassed, in hindsight, to admit he hadn’t known anything was wrong until much later on. It wasn’t until he noticed his old cardigan was gone and heard suspiciously theatrical evil laughter coming from the real world that he put the pieces together.

He rose up, albeit a bit clumsily, and turned to the other side with a wry smile. “Hm… you’re in my spot.”

“Want to tell me what that was all about?”

_“Absolutely.”_

“I’ve told you before, it’s better for everyone if you don’t tip the _scales_ in your favor.”

“I know you have.”

“So you won’t do it again?”

“Oh, of course not. You’ve convinced me entirely. However could I go on if my dear husband was mad with me?”

“I really should divorce you for this.”

“So why don’t you?”

A soft laugh. “When I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I can’t believe that Medus-ugh had us all fooled!” Roman bemoaned, tossing a hand against his forehead. “He had me doing his wicked bidding so easily.”

“He had _you_ fooled,” Logan flipped a page in the book he was reading under the table. “I deduced his true identity within five minutes of his arrival.”

“And you didn’t say anything why?” Virgil demanded.

Logan shrugged. “He’s banal, and it didn’t seem relevant.”

“Now, kiddos,” Patton interjected from his seat at the head of the table. “I know that today has been an… interesting day, but we can’t let this _snake_ us up. Logan, you’re very clever for figuring it out, but please put up your book. Dinner time is family time. Virgil, I understand your concern and thank you for it, but that’s no reason to lash out. Princey, you’re doing great.”

Roman beamed, Virgil smiled, soft and secret, and Logan rolled his eyes, but put his book away.

“Good,” Patton chirped, smiling at them, “now, Logan, why don’t you tell us about what you were reading…”

Dinner passed pleasantly enough, and before long Logan and Roman had been excused to their room, bickering and knocking shoulders as they tramped upstairs.

But Virgil stayed behind, knees drawn to his chest in his chair, scowling.

“Everything good, my daydream dressed like a nightmare?” Patton passed him by with a gentle frown, collecting the dirty plates.

“It is now, I just…” He huffed out a breath, scowling. “I can’t believe that slimy snake has us all fooled.”

“What do you mean?” Patton bustled into the kitchen, and Virgil followed after him, hopping up onto the counter with a scowl.

“He had us all on strings,” Virgil growled, clenching his hands around the edge of the countertop. “We were really… ugh, I don’t even want to think about what that liar was going to make Thomas do.”

“Now, Virgil,” Patton clucked, a curl of mischief in his tone as he put the dishes in the sink. “That’s no way to talk about your father.”

“He’s not my dad,” Virgil snorted. “You are.”

“Of course I am, kiddo!” Patton ruffled his hair. “But step-parents are still parents, you know.”

Virgil froze. “What?”

“Oh, is this because he always wears his ring under his gloves?” Patton clucked, scrubbing at the plates. “I’ve talked to him about it, but he said it just looks strange above them.”

Virgil looked as if he was trying very hard not to hyperventilate.

“But, you know, it’s still important to treat any parental figure with respect,” Patton lectured. “We both really do just want what’s best for you.”

“I’m dreaming,” Virgil muttered, pinching himself. “This is a horrible, horrible fever dream.”

“I know that it’s always hard to accept changes in the family dynamic,” Patton continued, turning to the sink to try and hide his smile. “But just because Deceit and I are married doesn’t mean–”

 _“Married?”_ Virgil choked out. “As in married-married?”

“Virgil!” Patton turned to him, admonishingly. “I’m surprised at you! I know Deceit and I have had our fair share of divorces before, but the sanctity of marriage is nothing to be taken lightly. Besides, we were sober when we did it this time.”

“Sober,” Virgil said, faintly. He stared at the golden ring on Patton’s finger like he was processing it for the first time. "Right.”

“Anyway,” Patton continued, “I just wanna say that you gotta ease up a bit, champ, yeah? I know you just want the best for your dear ol’ dad, but disrespecting my husband isn’t helping.”

Virgil barely managed to choke out an incredulous _“husb-“_ before Patton had ruffled his hair and disappeared through the open door. 

Virgil stared at the empty doorway for a long, long time before taking a deep breath.

“Hey, yeah, what the **_fuck-”_ **

“You did what?!” A gloved hand cupped Deceit’s mouth, futilely trying to hide the laughter that bubbled out.

“I just told him about how step-parents should be treated with the same respect as other types of parents,” Patton said primly, taking another bite of the chicken dinner Deceit had whipped up to hide his shit-eating grin.

 _“No,”_ Deceit gasped, mismatched eyes positively sparkling. “You didn’t.”

“I sure did.” Patton broke, letting his sly smile shine out. “I’m not even sure I could’ve _imagined_ the look on his face.”

Deceit cackled, practically bowed in half as Patton looked on, a warm sort of contentment in his chest.

Diners had been a recent development, and an infrequent one at that, but Patton has thought it only right that they check in with each other, every once in a while, and, for whatever reason, Deceit agreed.

“Pretty sure I heard him scream right as I walked out of the room, too,” Patton continued, and that just wet Deceit off on another peal of laughter, smile wide and unabashed. 

“Oh, I would’ve _paid_ to see that.”

Patton giggled. “I wish you could’ve! It’s a shame you can’t come visit, but” – he shrugged – “what can you do, you know?”

He took another bite, smiling to himself. “This is really delicious, you know. Did you use– Deceit? Are you alright?”

Every line in his body was drawn taut as a bowstring, his mismatched eyes blazing from under the shadow of his hat.

“Am I alright? He asks if I’m alright.” Deceit breathed, leaning back. He smiled, sharp. “You know, sometimes I see why Virgil prefers you. You… you make it so _easy_ to forget, don’t you, Morality?”

Patton blinked. “What do you–”

“You can’t keep _doing_ this, Patton,” Deceit snapped. “You can’t _look_ at me like that and treat me like this one second then turn around and say I’m bad the next. You can’t say ‘what can you do’ when you’re the one keeping us down here. You can’t just–” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “You need to learn your lesson,” he said lowly, dangerously. “And make up your mind, one way or the other.”

“I have made up my mind,” Patton, taken aback, managed. “You dark sides can’t get near Thomas. But that’s no reason to be… _rude_ to you.”

“Oh, you’re so _right._ No rudeness here at all.” Deceit pressed a yellow-gloved hand against his forehead and laughed again, but it was an ugly sound. “Can you even hear yourself, Morality?”

“I have a name, you know,” Patton said, softly.

“So do I.” Deceit raised his jaw. “And you’ll learn it, when you finally figure everything out.”

“I have everything figured out,” Patton snapped, hackles raised. “Thomas… he needs me to have everything figured out, to have the answers. So I do. So I can take care of him.”

“You can’t _really_ believe that Thomas can always be honest.” Deceit narrowed his mismatched eyes. “There are cases where it’s just impractical.”

“You can’t always lie,” Patton shot back. “Dishonesty never helped anyone.”

And, for a moment, there was something horrible in the air. Whatever residual openness in Deceit’s face that had been coaxed out by the food and conversation shuttered closed. He looked like a stranger with snake skin and lips curling into a snarl.

“Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean it like that,” Patton blurted, eyes wide and panicked. “I just meant that-“

“That what,” Deceit drawled. His voice was calm, smooth as ever. His hands were clenched. “That I’m useless? That I serve no purpose to Thomas? That you wish I wasn’t here?”

“What? No!”

“Go on then.” Deceit picked up his glass of wine and downed half of it viciously. “Tell me what you meant, Morality.”

“I just- I–” 

“Laws and morals were made up by men. We’re not born to think of them; we’re taught them,” Deceit said. “Everything you’ve espoused has been from a second-hand source. You’re keeping yourself chained, Patton, just as much as the rest of us. You want to quench your desires, your needs, but you repress them on the rules of society.”

“There’s more to Morality than just rules! It’s about doing what feels right, what helps people, and that’s what I’m doing!” Patton sputtered, standing. “And I’m not _repressing_ or _chaining_ anything.”

“Is that right?” Deceit slithered from his seat, stopping before Patton, so close he could feel the heat of him, smell his cologne, see the golden flecks in his dark eye. He lifted Patton’s chin with a gloved hand, looking at him cooly. 

Patton trembled there, eyes wide and lips parted.

Deceit arched an eyebrow. “Then why do you look at me like that?”

Patton stammered, and Deceit flashed a joyless smile, stepping away and gesturing towards the door in one smooth movement. “I think you should leave.”

“No, hey, Deceit,” Patton protested, even as he was herded away, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry means you won’t do it again,” Deceit said, softly. “But I think you would.”

And Patton was left, wordless, as the door shut in his face. 

  
  


He didn’t see much of Deceit for a while after that. 

At least, not until he dragged them all to court.

He placed his hand on the Bible, and wondered if the hand that held it had a ring, hiding beneath its yellow glove.

Patton, honestly and truly, didn’t see what Deceit was trying to accomplish with this. Sure, it would be nice if Thomas could go to the callback, but it was just wrong!

Going to the callback was selfish. Doing selfish things was bad. Doing bad things made you a bad person. Thomas didn’t want to be a bad person, so he couldn’t go to the callback. It was as simple as that.

And, based on Roman’s judging, he knew it.

Deceit was shaking when they rose back up in Thomas’s living room, mismatched eyes furious and voice shaking.

He was unraveling before Patton’s eyes, ranting about piñatas and blindfolds, voice climbing in pitch and desperation with each word.

“I’m _trying,”_ Deceit snarled, looking at Patton. “To teach you a _lesson,_ but it is literally impossible!”

And suddenly Patton could barely hear Logan's triumphant _“falsehood,”_ because all he could remember was an interrupted dinner and all he could feel was an _absence,_ like there was something crucial, something paramount, that he was missing.

But then Deceit was revealing his logo and _aww, look at the little snake tongues,_ and he was gone, and Patton made some joke about being _rattled_ and Logan and Roman were gone, leaving him and Thomas and the absence in his stomach.

“Sorry,” he said, softly, “for lying to you, Thomas.”

“Lying?” His kiddo turned to him. “What do you mean? When did you lie?”

“Earlier. I kept telling you how you felt even though I didn't know the truth, and I turned out to be wrong.”

“Well, you thought what you said was true.”

“No, I hoped it was true. Saying something is a fact when you don't have the facts straight is…” Patton swallowed, hard. “Dishonest.”

Thomas flashed a half-smile. “Well... It's okay. I know you were just trying to make sure I did the right thing.”

“And I really believe you are doing the right thing here, Thomas,” he promised.

“I think I am too.” Thomas sighed, looking down. “I just wish that what felt right didn't also hurt me.”

There was a sick churning in Patton’s stomach, and he couldn’t help but wish for the same thing, but he flashed a plastic smile, gentling his voice.

“Well, here's the thing, kiddo. People hurt all the time. By going to the wedding, you're making sure that two of your friends aren't hurt by the absence of someone they really care about. Do you know why you're doing that?”

“Because it's right?” Thomas looked at him.

“Because you can't help but imagine putting yourself in other people's shoes!” Patton stepped forward, taking his hand.

Thomas pulled a face. “What if their shoes are stinky?”

Patton laughed, squeezing his hand. Throughout it all, his kiddo hadn’t changed a bit.

“Well, out of all the shoes to put yourself in, those are the most important. That tendency is a beautiful part of you! You shouldn't give it up for anything. And who knows? Maybe one day you'll get to marry the second most handsome prince in the world. And I'll bet Lee and Mary Lee will remember when you were there for them, and they'll be there for you.”

Thomas managed a smile. “Thanks, Patton.”

“Don't mention it, kiddo.” Patton leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then detached himself with a laugh. “Ding! Going down!”

He sank out and managed to keep his smile until he was out of view.

“Really, I must thank you for your helpful contributions, husband dear.”

Patton whirled around, heart startling in his chest.

“Deceit? How’d you get into my room?”

“Oh, Morality.” There was something like pity in his eyes, tucked behind the cold anger. “I deal in lies. Repression. Denial. How could I not?”

“What do you want?” Patton crossed his arms. “We already have everything sorted out.”

“Don’t worry,” Deceit hissed, tugging off his glove. “This won’t take long.”

“Deceit, what are you–”

That golden ring slipped off his finger.

A cold chill hit Patton’s chest.

“Guess I don’t have to tell you what I want.” Deceit tossed the ring at his feet. “Send someone else down with the papers, and I’ll sign them.”

Patton picked it up with trembling hands. “I’m just…” His voice cracked. He had to start again. “I’m just trying to help him.”

“You’re _just_ trying to keep him ‘pure’, just like you remember.” Shining black brogues tapped towards him, but Patton didn’t look up. “You’ve been looking at him so closely, you can’t see him.”

“I know him better than anyone, Deceit.” Patton clenched his hand into a fist, hiding the ring. “He’s _my_ kiddo. I’m the one who’s been there for him through _everything.”_

“Clearly, I’m here to argue with you,” Deceit said, passing him by. “We saw how well that worked just now.”

Patton gritted his jaw, looking obstinately away. “Just get out.”

“My pleasure,” Deceit drawled. _“Do_ forget the papers now, won’t you? I _love_ these terse interactions you seem so fond of.”

He didn’t close the door all the way, and, as Patton raised himself to close it, he knew the snake was laughing over his little slight – one last mess for Patton to clean up.

  
  


Patton only remembered flashes of the time after that – that constant sickness in his stomach, the lines under Roman’s eyes, the brittle edges of Virgil’s words, the flatness of Logan’s expressions. The lightness of his bare hand.

Thomas hadn’t been sleeping well.

And, if he was being honest, Patton didn’t want to remember the day Remus introduced himself.

The wedding was fine.

Thomas had cake. A new score in Word Crush. A sick feeling in his stomach. An anger Patton had never seen in him before.

“You should never—Uh, I mean… I'm surprised that you would, uh, say something like that about your friends,” Patton said. 

“Are you having second thoughts about choosing to go to the wedding, Roman?” he asked.

“Well kiddo, unfortunately, life isn't always like, uh, your video games. sometimes you can make all the good choices and still... not get the good ending,” he said.

He meant: _this isn’t like you. Why are you doing this? When did you change, and why didn’t I notice?_

He tried to guide them through it, showing them how they should give the hot dog to Leslie Odom Junior, how it’s better to serve up soup and sandwiches than knuckle sandwiches, that it isn’t okay to do something just because it feels good, even if it is the right thing to do, but they kept _pushing, asking, digging._

Patton stammered through explanations, unsure how to explain it all, and when he turned to Logan for help, that pixelated voice just rattled off questions, loud and invasive and _prying._

“Oh, is it not? Please, correct me if I'm wrong.”

_You're wrong!_

“So if it was between Thomas's life or another's, you don't think Thomas should give his life up.”

_Whoa- l… uh…_

“Oh and this other person is an innocent little lamb?”

_Okay. I… uh…_

“Or how about a group of innocents.”

_Um… I-I don't... Um, I don't…_

“Actually, I would like to know, Patton. What should Thomas do in that kind of situation?”

 _I… don’t…_ **_KNOW_ **

And the world suddenly seemed so much smaller.

Afterwards, Patton ran his hands over his arms again and again, half-expecting to find a thin sheen of mucus each time.

Deceit was there, with his mismatched eyes and his smooth, steady voice, and Patton didn’t feel that sickness in his stomach anymore. All he really felt was tired.

“He’s right,” Patton said, softly. “I’m bringing this plane down.”

Thomas had been suffering for so long, all thanks to him.

“When is it enough, then?” Roman demanded. His voice was rough; desperation shone in his eyes. “He’s asking us to go back on things we’ve known for years! Rights and wrongs! Shoulds and shouldn’ts! How can we trust him?!”

“I don’t have a simple answer for that,” Deceit said then took a deep breath. “But here’s a start.”

He started tugging his glove off, and for a bizarre moment, Patton expected to see a ring. “My name… My name is Janus.”

His face was carefully neutral, and Patton realized, with a sudden jolt, that he was terrified.

That, of course, was when Roman laughed in his face.

Janus snapped back, quick and biting, and Patton couldn’t find it in himself to rise to either of their defenses.

Roman lashed out, twice as hard, voice climbing in pitch and intensity with every word.

He looked as desperate as Patton had felt, not too long ago. Would he have, if Patton hadn’t made him like that? If he hadn’t held him up on a pedestal and told him he was the good answer to all things bad?

“Roman,” he said, gently. “Everything’s going to be okay. We love you.”

Roman laughed, bitterly. “Right.”

And he was gone.

“Janus,” Patton said, and the name was nice on his tongue, so similar to the hisses the other side was fond of. “Do you think there's a limit on how many times someone can say sorry before you have to admit... that they're just bad for you?”

It depended, according to Janus, but Patton knew, with a clarity he never would’ve expected, that he’d offer apologies up, to Janus, to Thomas, to Roman, to them all, as long as they would have him.

“I’m going to go check on Roman,” he said. Then: “Janus?”

Janus nodded. “I’ll take care of him.”

And Patton believed him.

Roman didn’t answer when Patton knocked, but when Patton pressed his ear against the door, he could hear crashing, the swing of a sword through the air, half-muffled shrieks of rage and frustration and confusion and helplessness. Romulus used to do the same thing when things got to be too much – retreat into himself and lash out at immaterial things with his broadsword, hissing and shouting out until he reached catharsis or was too tired to hold onto his rage.

It used to terrify Patton, all that rage, all those _bad_ thoughts, but now, with his forehead pressed to the door as Roman raged on the other side, all he really felt was sad. He retreated into the kitchen, made a marshmallow-and-peanut-butter sandwich, and cut it into a heart. Crusts off, just like Roman liked. He left it outside Roman’s door.

Roman could get it, whenever he was ready. Patton could be a little more patient, a little more understanding, this time around.

Patton didn’t sleep much that night. The memories were like a healing bruise, tender but cathartic. A sharp, bracing, almost satisfying pain.

He thought about time, about changes, about a sunshine-drenched afternoon, and the smell of wine and old books, and scales when they were wet with tears, and a sickness in his stomach. He thought about Thomas, collapsed on the ground in a pixelated world, about crashing planes and lifeguards and taking turns in a party game.

He thought about the two rings, tucked safely in his bedside drawer.

He thought, and he made a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wonder what that decision could be,,, surely has nothing to do with marriage,,,
> 
> [reblog here](https://impatentpending.tumblr.com/post/619039729331093504/bother-me-a-little-bit-longer) if you'd be so kind!
> 
> plz comment to give me serotonin and gently roast me if you see any typos, Cowards <3


	3. Even the Cake is in Tiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a proposal is made, the children suffer, and a wedding is had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for taxidermied animals, martyr complex, death threats (joking and serious, including physical), disembodied limbs, food, and morally gray all sides /especially Roman/
> 
> the song mentioned in this chapter is So Long by Zooey Deschanel, which is on Patton's playlist and 100% the moceit anthem, as well as where the title comes from!

It took Patton a while to work up the courage. Janus had been around more and more often, hanging around Thomas, analyzing old movies with Logan, sharing cold silences with Roman and Virgil (when they made brief appearances away from their rooms), but this wasn’t exactly a conversation he wanted to have around the others.

In the end, Patton waited for Janus in the dark side’s common room, with Remus.

“Would you care for some more tea, my dearest daddykins?” Remus tossed his head, sending the tassel on top of his princess hat fluttering. He held out his acid green tea pot, smiling. Around their small, round table, sat taxidermied rats and possums in various stages of decomposition, wearing silly hats – fellow guests to their tea party.

Patton attempted a smile. “Sure, Remus.”

Remus giggled, pouring out a viscous, acid-green mixture. It was freezing to the touch, but bubbled ominously in the cup.

Patton raised it cautiously to his face, and pretended to take a sip as best he could without making contact. “Mmm. Delicious.”

“It’s not supposed to be good.” Remus pouted, crossing his arms. “It’s supposed to taste like aged dragon piss.”

“Language,” Patton said, reflexively, then winced. “Sorry, I mean. Um… yucky?”

Remus brightened immediately. He seemed, somehow, to have too many joints in his spine, what with the way he was wriggling in his seat. “I was hoping you’d hate it!”

“Remus,” a cool voice drawled, saving Patton from having to formulate a response. “What did we say about poisoning guests?”

With a sheepish grin, Remus turned to the door. “It’s a cool and sexy thing to do?”

“Try again.” Janus slithered his way into the room, gait slow and steady, but there was a crackling tension in the look leveled out of the side of his eye at Patton.

“It’s a _very_ cool and sexy thing to do,” Remus amended.

Janus laughed – a low, throaty sound. “Close enough.”

He ruffled Remus’s hair with a gloved hand. “I take it you’ve been… entertaining our guest?”

“We’re having a tea party,” Patton pipped up, feeling unreasonably sheepish. “I was hoping I’d find you down here, but…”

“Dadd-a-licious got stuck with me instead,” Remus cackled.

“Hm.” Janus finally turned the full force of his mismatched gaze onto Patton, tilting his head. “Remus, darling, give us the room?”

“Ooh.” Remus flashed that too-wide smile. “Spicy stuff?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you know how much I love impropriety.”

“Have fun boning~” Remus sing-songed, skittering from the room.

“Thank you for… indulging him,” Janus said, once the sound of Remus’s skip-jumping steps faded away. “Although I’d recommend medical attention if you actually drank any of… that.” He prodded the tea pot with the tip of his cane, nose scrunched.

“I may not be as smart as you or Lo, but I know basic safe _-te_ _a_.” Patton stood, trying on a smile. “Besides, Remus is… interesting company.”

Janus snorted, leaning against his cane. “Which is why you’ve interacted with him so much in the past, clearly.”

“Well.” Patton shrugged. “He’s your son, right?”

“Close enough, heaven help me,” Janus said with a far too affectionate sigh.

“Then he’s close enough to my son too.” Patton grinned wryly. “And that probably means I should start making up for being a pretty bad close enough step-dad.”

Janus blinked, slowly.

“Forgive me if I’m missing something here, but I’m relatively sure I would’ve remembered if you were Remus’s stepfather, as that would mean we got remarried.” Janus clicked his tongue. “And I’m fairly certain I haven’t been drunk enough to make that decision in quite some time.”

“Well,” Patton said, lowering himself onto one knee. “About that.”

He pulled a velvet box out of his pocket.

“Patton,” Janus said, voice teetering on the verge of panic. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want to marry you,” Patton said, simply, then flashed a wry smile. “Again.”

Janus squinted. “And you’re _sure_ you didn’t drink any of Remus’s tea?”

“No,” Patton huffed. “I didn’t. I just… I wanted to make things right.”

“Oh, so you’re marrying me out of obligation and a martyr complex,” Janus drawled, eyes narrowing. “How romantic.”

“That’s not-!” Patton groaned. “I meant ‘right’ as in to show you I know now just how much Thomas needs you. ‘Right’ as in to let you know that this… thing… is a partnership.”

He stood, gently pulling out the heart-etched ring and pressing it into Janus' hand.

“You can take all the time you need to _ring_ me up,” Patton said. “Just know. I… I trust you. I want this. I want you to know how much you mean, to all of us. To me. I don’t want to, and I _can’t_ do any of this without you by my side.”

When Patton left, Janus was still turning the ring over in his hand. 

It was only a week later that Lee and Mary-Lee showed up on Thomas’s doorstep.

Janus and Patton wandered in, drawn by screaming and the promise of mimosas, but pulled up short when they saw Thomas, glowing with happiness as he chatted with his friends, teasing them over the honeymoon phase, deftly avoiding questions about his own love life, laughing over old memories.

“Well. It seems like everything worked out.” Janus' voice was almost bitter. “Guess I was wrong about everything,” he added with a sarcastic wave of his hands.

But Patton just smiled at him, leaning a little closer into his side.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

It was as if something shifted behind Janus' face, those mismatched eyes softening. Patton was so caught up in staring at them he didn’t even notice Janus tugging off his glove.

He did, however, notice when Janus reached out and took his hand, rings clinking together.

Patton’s eyes widened, gaze dropping to the ring on Janus' hand, to his face, and down again.

“Is that a yes?” Patton turned to him, almost hopping on his toes, glowing with a smile.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Janus said, and kissed him.

  
  


“I’m going to kill you,” Logan said, immediately after they informed him. “I am quite literally _very_ close to snapping. Do you know how ridiculous your multiple matrimonial ceremonies have been?”

“So glad we have your blessing,” Janus purred, tucking his arm in Patton’s and sauntering off to inform the other sides.

“You’ll do great at officiating, kiddo!” Patton called over his shoulder.

 _“Officiating–”_ Came the scandalized cry, cut off by the door swinging shut.

Patton looked at Janus with a grin, giggles already pressing against the back of his lips. Janus looked at Patton, biting his bottom lip, trying to force away a smile.

 _“Officiating?!”_ Came another cry from inside.

Janus broke first, leaning on Patton’s arm as he wheezed with laughter, but Patton wasn’t far behind, burying his face in his fiancé’s shoulder, giggling helplessly.

Remus was next, and, to neither of their surprise, the most enthusiastic.

“Yay!” He clapped hands. Patton spared a moment to wonder whose disembodied hands they were. “Dadceit and momality!” He frowned, tilting his head. “Momceit and popality? He waved the thought away. “I’ll work on it.”

“Totally not heteronormative of you,” Janus drawled. 

“I’m glad you’re so excited.” Patton flashed him a tentative smile, edging closer to Janus' side and away from The Thing In The Corner Of His Vision That Crept Ever-Closer.

“Oh, for sure.” Remus barred his many, many teeth in a grin. “You just gotta promise to tell me how the wedding night goes, alright? I gotta know which fanfic I wrote is right.”

“Whichever one remembers I’m demisexual,” Janus said, dryly, flicking out his cane and smacking the Thing In The Corner Of His Vision That Crept Ever-Closer before it could reach Patton.

Remus blew a raspberry. “Hey, be nice to Thingy.”

“So grateful you took my instruction to get a pet to learn responsibility and decided on an eldritch abomination, Remus, really. Brilliant move on your part.”

“Thank you,” Remus chirped with far too much enthusiasm.

Virgil didn’t answer the door when they knocked.

“Virge!” Patton trilled, rapping lightly. “Come on out, kiddo! Your pop-star has something important to tell you!”

No sound came from behind the door, and Patton frowned, gently knocking again. “Virge? Where’s my _son-_ hit wonder, huh?”

Janus touched his shoulder gently, and Patton turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. Wordlessly, Janus gestured with his cane to the gap at the bottom of the door, where two distinctly feet-shaped shadows pooled, cutting through the light.

“Well, if you’re not here, that’s alright, kiddo.” Patton’s mouth twisted up, bittersweet. “I just really wanted to talk to my best man, but if not…”

He made a noisy show of turning around, feet shuffling against the carpet.

“Come on, Janus. We’d better head out.”

As soon as they were turned around fully, the door creaked softly behind them.

One gray eye peered out at them. “Best man?”

Patton turned to him with a gentle smile. “Of course.”

The eye swiveled to Janus, who was taking several deep, even breaths, fingers digging into his palm.

“To him?”

“Yes.” Patton took his hand, gently unfurling the clenched fingers.

“You can’t trust him.”

“But I do.”

Janus always reacted strangely when he said that, like he’d been shocked – breath hitching and muscles tensing before forcing themselves into relaxation an instant later.

“Anything I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

That gray eye narrowed. “Fine then.”

When the door shut this time, it didn’t open again.

“I’ll wait outside,” Janus had quietly said when they reached the red and gold-plaited door, and now, looking at the expression on Roman’s face, Patton couldn’t help but be glad of it.

“You’re kidding,” Roman said, flatly.

“No.” Patton kept his arms uncrossed, voice gentle. “I’m not. Janus is… good for me, Roman. For Thomas. He keeps the plane flying steady.”

“Forgive me for not finding anything about that _fiend_ of Eve particularly _uplifting.”_ Roman stood from his desk, stopping before Patton with his head high.

“I do,” Patton said, softly. “I’m not mad or upset with you about your reaction. I know most of it is my fault.”

Roman tilted his chin defiantly, and for a moment, Patton could’ve sworn he saw a child’s cardboard crown on his head. “I trusted you, you know.”

“I know.” Patton rubbed his arm, looking to the side. “And maybe you shouldn’t have. But I was doing my best, Roman. I really was. But that wasn’t good enough. And now, I need to try harder. We all do. You can learn from your silly ol’ pop’s mistakes instead of having to make your own, you know? We can be a little more open minded. A little more accepting. A little better with change. I know you, kiddo, and I know you just want what’s best for Thomas. So, I’m hoping you can trust me again when I tell you that this _is_ what’s best for him. I know I haven’t been the world’s best dad, or even close. I’ve failed you in so, so many ways, Roman. Just, please. Don’t let this be another one of them.”

Roman stood. His hand found his sword. “He’s outside right now, isn’t he?”

“He… is,” Patton said, slowly. “But, Ro, I promise– Roman?!”

Roman had already shouldered past him. 

As soon as the door swung open, Janus lurched up from where he was slouched against the wall. “I wasn’t doing anything,” he blurted, though it looked suspiciously like he had been staring at his ring.

Roman stood before him, sword in hand, eyes dark.

“Oh.” Janus swallowed hard. “Greetings, Roman. You’re a vision as always.”

Roman smiled, sharp. “What did I say about flattery, snake?”

Janus, wisely, said nothing.

“Roman, champ.” Patton placed a gentle hand on his arm, but the prince shrugged it off. “Roman, please! You’re better than this.”

“That’s what you always told me,” Roman said, evenly. “That’s what you told me since I became… me, instead of him. That I was better. That I was good. That _they_ weren’t. And I trusted you.”

“Roman, please,” Patton’s voice broke. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’ve been scaring myself, lately.” 

Roman’s sword flicked out to rest at the hollow of Janus' neck.

Janus stood very, very still.

“You know, Patton,” Roman said, conversationally. “I think the problem is that, despite it all, I still want to trust you. It sounds so nice, this little world you’ve created, where we can believe anything they say. Where snakes like this don’t drug you on pretty words and whispers of everything you’ve ever wanted, just to prove Thomas can be selfish. That’s how you raised me to think, and I really, really do wish that’s how it all worked.”

“Roman,” Patton begged, “kiddo, please. Just put down the sword, and we can talk this out–“

“I’m sorry,” Janus said. 

Roman stilled.

“I shouldn’t have tried to gain your trust without making amends for my mistakes in the past,” Janus continued. “I should’ve apologized, rather than brushed past it. That was wrong of me. I… I used you, and that was wrong of me. I was just so desperate to finally get through to Thomas that I didn’t care what I did. Who I hurt. That’s no excuse, I know, but it’s all I can say. I was wrong, Roman. I’m sorry.”

“You had me thinking it was my one shot,” Roman said. “That I was going to throw away everything I ever dreamed of. I had to sit there, afterwards, and think that I had failed my entire life’s purpose.”

“I was wrong,” Janus said, again. “And I know that’s not the sort of thing you can make up for, but I swear to you, I’ll try.”

“I’ll kill you if you hurt him.” Roman’s hand tightened on his sword. “He was wrong about a lot of things, but don’t you dare hurt him. Not like you did me.”

Janus looked at him, steady. “I won’t.”

Roman laughed, bitterly. “You have no idea how much I want to believe you.”

He went back into his room and slammed the door behind him.

Janus managed a laugh, rubbing at the hollow of his neck. “And to think we were worried.”

The wedding preparations came about, somehow or another.

Patton and Janus did most of it, of course, getting together color schemes and ideas for the reception between taking care of the kids.

Remus, at least, was doing his best to help. His best often included setting the place in the Imagination the ceremony was to be held on fire, as he claimed it was the best way to get rid of those pesky weeds that would ruin the pictures, but Patton appreciated it nonetheless.

Logan, as well, had seemingly taken on wedding planning as just another task in his daily itinerary – _cake testing_ scribbled in a checklist alongside _review new script_ and _update vocab cards._

The whole thing passed by in such a rush of taffeta and lace and planing that Patton was almost stunned to find himself in the kitchen, pulling the cake’s tiers from the oven – the thick, round slabs of lemon-blueberry sponge, boasting a rich, heavenly smell.

Janus helped him prepare the batter earlier, far more comfortable in the kitchen that Patton would’ve expected, sieving flour and teasing him about how many ingredients he ate before they were used.

“Patton, dear,” he purred, eyes lit with amusement. “I love the innovative blueberry-less cake option you’re going for here, but perhaps we could actually save a few for our wedding, hm?”

_Dear. Our wedding._

Patton wasn’t in love with Janus. 

Not yet, at least.

But sometimes, when he said things like _that,_ looked at Patton with those eyes, turned that fanged, sly smile towards him conspiratorially – as if the world was a secret only they shared – he thought he could be, if he wasn’t very, very careful.

“Earth to Padre?” Roman waved a hand before his face. “You’ve been staring at that wall for like ten minutes.”

“Oh!” Patton jumped, flushing. “Right. Sorry, champ.”

Virgil and Roman had tramped downstairs, faces stony, almost as soon as the cakes were pulled out, claiming they were there to help. Janus had, perhaps wisely, absconded to consult with Logan on some paperwork, so Patton was left in the kitchen, in what was perhaps the most uncomfortable cake-frosting of his entire culinary career.

Roman was stabbing fondant flowers into the tiers like they owed him money, and Virgil was listlessly sprinkling edible gold dust across the marbled teal and yellow cream cheese frosting. 

“So,” Patton chirped, voice smashing through the strained quiet. “I’m glad you kiddos are helping your ol’ pop-tart out! You haven’t been out of your rooms in so long you’re looking a little _pastry.”_

Roman looked disgruntled at the small bubble of laugh that dared escape his throat, fighting his face back into the sullen misery becoming increasingly less foreign to his handsome features. Virgil just snorted, rolling his eyes and looking off, through the window above the sink.

Patton sighed, clapping his hands sharply. “Right! That’s it – sharing circle.”

“Wha–” Roman sputtered out a protest, but Patton had already taken his arm, escorting him towards the counter.

“Sharing circle,” he repeated, stalwartly ignoring the fact they formed a triangle with Virgil. “I’m very grateful to see you kiddos helping me out, but if you’re not doing it with a happy heart, what’s the point in doing it at all, huh? I would’ve expected the two of you to be trying to talk me out of it, but all you’re doing is eating my frosting and butchering that poor cake.”

Virgil and Roman shared a helpless glance, mouths twisting. Virgil narrowed his eyes. Roman raised an eyebrow. Virgil tilted his head, exasperated.

With a roll of his eyes, Roman turned to Patton, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet.

“You… you’ve always been a champion for us, Pat – supporting us and fighting for us.” The prince pushed a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Not always in the best ways possible, but–”

Virgil jabbed an elbow into his side, and Roman pulled a face at him.

“We decided that it’s our turn,” Virgil continued, fingers worrying at the edge of his sleeves. “For better or worse, we… we love you, Pat. Something like this isn’t going to change that. And if that slimy lia– if _Deceit_ makes you…”

He fumbled, trying and failing to hide a grimace, and Roman picked up.

“Happy or _steady_ or what have you” – Roman twirled a hand, and a blue heart, encircled by a yellow snake, appeared on top of the cake – “we want that for you.”

“That being said, we’ve got two shovels and the whole imagination to hide the body.” Virgil’s eyes darkened with something like glee.

Patton clasped his hands above his mouth, trying and failing to hide the small squeak that came out. His eyes, wide and water-rimmed, shone out at them. “You really mean it?”

“Oh, for sure!” Roman confirmed, enthusiastically. “We already came up with this plan where we sneak down into the dark side’s common room at night, perhaps after some holiday so he’s inebriated, and find where he’s sleeping–”

Virgil slapped a hand over his mouth. “He means supporting his stupi– his marriage, Prince pea-brain.”

“Ah!” Roman cleared his throat, loud and deep. “Yes, very good. I knew that.”

He cast a guilty side-eye at Patton, but the dad was too busy throwing his arms around both of them for a hug.

“Is it silly that I’m a little scared?” Patton asked, adjusting his white bow-tie in the mirror.

“Yes,” Logan said, flipping a page in his book. “Realistically speaking, this is nothing you haven’t done before, albeit separated by some time.”

“You’re fine, Pop-star.” Virgil pulled a face at Logan before turning serious gray eyes onto Patton. “Seriously, whatever you want to do right now, I support you. If you want me to walk out there and tell Deceit it’s over, I will gladly–”

“Down boy,” Patton laughed, gently. “That’s not what I meant, Virge. It just… feels different this time, you know?” He turned back to himself in the mirror, smoothing down his gray suit jacket. “At least I’m well- _groomed.”_

“Only in one sense,” Roman muttered before wincing. “Er… I mean.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. “You look very nice, Patton. Second most handsome prince in the world handsome, if I dare say so,” he tacked on, flashing a rakish grin.

“Roman!” Patton swatted at him, playfully. “I’m nearly a married man, you know.”

There was a strange fluttering in his stomach as soon as he said it. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to marry Janus, but it… it just felt _strange_ right now, when Janus was suddenly so new and familiar at once – handsome as always, suddenly so grounding, sly and sarcastic as always, suddenly so honest.

He pushed the feeling away, turning to his kiddos with a plastic smile.

“Alrighty,” he chirped. “Guess it’s time, then.”

The wedding was lovely, of course.

Roman, however reluctant his involvement may have been, never did things halfway – a chapel with arching walls of pure glass, rising to a gentle point, stood in the middle of an autumnal woodscape in the imagination. Red, orange, and yellow trees set against the blue sky blazed beyond the crystalline walls, and inside all was warm, cozy. Logan stood in the center of the room, under a flowered archway.

Patton smoothed down his gray suit, hanging onto Virgil’s arm for dear life.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Virgil asked, lowly.

“What, am I looking _wed_ in the face?”

Virgil just tightened his grip on Patton’s arm.

“I’m fine, Virge. Promise.” 

At some unknown signal, Roman began the wedding march, fingers flying over his cello. On the other side of the chapel, Janus came into view, on Remus’s arm. Patton’s breath caught in his throat.

He wasn’t wearing anything special, not really – just a black suit and a yellow shirt – but everything felt so _consequential,_ suddenly, every step and breath made even more real for the shine of the autumn sun in Janus’ mismatched eyes, trained on him.

They came to a stop, somehow, meeting in the middle before Logan.

“Hi,” Patton said, softly.

Janus just flashed a fanged smiled back, lips curving gently. “Hello.”

Virgil’s fingers tightened on his arm, and, for a moment, Patton was afraid he wouldn’t let go, but Virgil pulled himself away, taking a few steps back and fuming opposite Remus, who dramatically flashed a thumbs-up at Patton.

“Dearly beloved,” Logan said, voice as serious as ever. “We are gathered here today to join these sides in holy macaroni.”

There was a beat of silence.

Roman coughed, awkwardly.

Logan frowned, flipping out a small stack of note cards. “My research led me to believe a light-hearted reference to a previous, similar occasion would be well-received.”

“Totally was,” Janus drawled.

Logan grumbled, sliding the cards back into his pocket and launching back into the traditional speech – something about loyalty and partnership and heteronormative dowry traditions Patton was sure he would’ve been paying rapt attention to if his stomach didn’t feel like it was trying to digest itself.

“Who has the rings?” Logan asked.

“That would be me!” Roman presented them with a flourish, winking at Patton and sliding a glare Janus’ way.

Logan nodded, satisfied, as the grooms took their partner’s. “The grooms have elected to write their own vows.”

It was Patton who went first, Patton who took both of Janus’ ungloved hands in his own and smiled at him, almost shyly.

 _“Fiancé_ meeting you here.”

There was a general round of groans, and Patton grinned when Janus just rolled his eyes, biting back that fanged smile.

“I used to think that I had everything figured out,” he admitted with a soft laugh, once the complaints died down. “That I was all Thomas needed, the only thing that kept him… _him._ But you taught me better. I need you, for his sake, for the other sides’ sakes, and for my sake. I need you. I promise to be your partner, your equal, in all things, and to stay by your side, in loyalty, in life, and in lo–” The word caught in his throat, and he paused, gaze dipping to the ground so he didn’t have to see the look in Janus’ eyes. “In life,” he repeated. “However long you’ll have me.”

“I’m a liar,” Janus said, voice so gentle Patton would have believed he was reciting poetry. “I always have been, and I always will be. I love nothing more than lies and secrets and mysteries. Not so long ago, I would’ve believed that you would never look my way with anything more than disdain. But you surprised me. And you keep surprising me. Which, you know, is _totally not_ pretty darn cool of you.”

Patton giggled, squeezing Janus’ hands.

“So I’m going to make you a promise, Patton: that I’ll always protect you, from even yourself, if need be. That I’ll always take care of you, always keep the plane flying steady. That I’ll be beside you, whenever you need me, to support you, to rival you, to care for you. You’re the world’s greatest mystery, Patton Sanders, and I’ll spend the rest of my life figuring you out, if you’ll have me.”

Remus grinned. Roman hastily tried to look like he wasn’t crying. Virgil’s eyes softened, just the tiniest bit.

“Ah.” Logan cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. “Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders, do you take Janus ‘Deceit’ Sanders as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” Patton said, softly, sliding the heart-etched ring onto Janus’s finger.

“Janus ‘Deceit’ Sanders, do you take Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” Janus echoed, sliding its match onto Patton’s.

“Well then,” Logan said, and he was almost smiling. “You may now kiss the side.”

Everything else today had felt so strange, so new, but when Patton leaned forward to kiss Janus, nothing in the world had ever felt so natural.

The reception went well, all things considered. Roman and Remus only tried to kill each other twice, Virgil hadn’t poisoned any of the cake, and as requested, Logan had a sound-proof room to escape into when he felt at-risk of sensory overload.

It still felt a bit surreal – a dreamy sense of shock settling over Patton even as he fed Janus bites of cake, rested his head on his shoulder, laughed with surprised delight when he dipped him in the middle of their first dance, set to _So Long._

Virgil found him when he was sitting, back to the wall, smiling to himself as Janus and Roman busied themselves with an increasingly elaborate dance-off, Logan and Remus calling out what seemed to be entirely arbitrary scores from the sidelines. His feet were aching, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled this much without meaning to.

“I think Janus has stopped _hissing_ him off,” Virgil commented, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “At least a bit.”

Patton shot a wry grin up at him, patting the floor next to him invitingly. “If only it was a sentiment shared by all my children.”

“You can’t blame me for being…” Virgil gestured to himself with a huff, sinking down to sit beside him. _“Anxious.”_

“Probably my fault,” Patton admitted. “I’ve been feeling a little _bridaled_ up.”

Virgil turned to him, eyes wide. “Still? But isn’t all this” – he gestured around, to the cake and the music and the other sides, dancing – “what you wanted?”

“Yeah.” Patton let his head loll back against the wall, feeling the vibrations from the sound system rattling around in his skull. “It was. Is. I’m just– no. I’m just being silly.”

“Pat,” Virgil said, slowly. “Why did you ask Janus to marry you?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Patton said, simply. “It’s what I wanted to do.”

Virgil just looked at him with those gray eyes. “Then, if you made the right choice, why don’t you feel right?”

“I might. I just… just need time,” Patton said, looking out where Roman and Remus were spinning each other in circles, eyes shining and laughter bubbling. “This was what’s best. For all of us.”

They sat there a while longer, until Welcome to the Black Parade came on, and Patton dragged Virgil out for ‘the father-son dance, my black hole _son!’_ ignoring Virgil’s protest of ‘that’s really not how that works, Pat.’

The night ended in a flurry of movements – Remus diving into the chocolate fountain; Roman hijacking the DJ booth to put _Flamboyant_ on loop, to Virgil and Logan’s vocal displeasure; Janus pulling him close and twirling him into a waltz, murmuring in that silk-smooth voice how beautiful he looked, pressing brief kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his lips, whenever Patton least suspected it.

It was perfect. Objectively. It should’ve _felt_ perfect, and, indeed, in those moments – his kiddos around him, Janus by his side – it did.

But the music wound itself down, and Virgil started yawning, and the snacks were all eaten, and soon enough, Patton found himself in the honeymoon suite, all billowing blue curtains and large, white bed.

Janus, his _husband,_ stood on the balcony, looking over the moonlight-drenched ocean of the imagination, hands resting lightly on the marble bannister. His wedding ring caught the star light, setting it to gleaming.

“Planning on gawking all night?”

Patton startled, flushing. “Oh, no, I was just… lost in thought, I guess.”

He slipped forward, standing beside him, watching the dark waves crash against the pristine beach, the moon’s reflection scattered into a million pieces. “Talk about a _groom_ with a view, huh?”

Janus turned to him with a wry smile. He had undone his tie and top buttons, revealing the hollow of his neck, dotted with faint, iridescent scales. “I think the twins may have taken the whole concept of a honeymoon a bit too seriously.”

Patton blinked. “Remus helped?”

“Because he’d _miss_ the opportunity to arrange something… bawdy.” Janus snorted. “Maybe do yourself a favor and don’t check the side drawers.”

“Oh.” A flush rose, hot, on his cheeks. “Noted.”

Janus leaned forward, forearms bare from where he’d pushed up his sleeves. He was stronger than Patton had realized – all sinewy, coiled muscle in long, graceful lines. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”

“It was nice,” he admitted, softly. “I didn’t realize how good it would feel to see everyone together like that.”

“I know what you mean.” A smile curled his lips. “The twins together, mine and Roman’s little competition, your and Virgil’s little… _tête-à-tête.”_

“No _tea_ to spill there.” Patton waved him away. “You know Virge. I– he still had a few reservations about me being _wedlocked_ and loaded, if you know what I mean.”

Janus hummed, a low sound in the back of his throat. “I think I do.”

Silence settled over them, broken only by the crashing of waves, far below. Patton fidgeted with his sleeves, darting glances at the other side, who seemed perfectly content lost in his own thoughts, thumb idly rubbing over his ring.

“Well, then.” Patton flashed his plastic smile, rocking on his heels. “First night as a married couple. What do you want to do?”

Janus turned to him, looking almost startled, before his face softened into a smile, slow and easy. He reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Patton’s ear, scaled fingers whispering through his hair, and took a step closer. He was so close Patton could feel the heat of his body, skin prickling where Janus leaned closer to him. A shiver ran down his spine, and he swallowed hard, fighting to stay still – unsure if he wanted to dive forward or fall back. He clenched his hands, digging his fingernails into his palms.

Janus leaned forward, voice so dark and purring Patton almost didn’t register his words.

“Get a divorce.”

Patton made a soft sound despite himself, hands fisting in the lapels of Janus’s suit jacket.

He paused.

Processed.

“Hold up.” He took a few steps backwards, squinting at the other side dubiously. “What?”

“A divorce, dear,” Janus purred, pulling a manila envelope from his jacket. 

“Don’t worry,” he continued, pressing it into Patton’s hands. “I took the liberty of borrowing some things from Logan beforehand.”

He turned and started sauntering off.

Patton stood there, in his wedding suit, divorce papers in hand, stunned. _“What?”_

“Oh, Patton, darling.” Janus looked back over his shoulder, flashing a fanged smile. “Surely you didn’t expect better from _me?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jan, thats not how flirting works.
> 
> I'm fixing just a /few/ things in the final chapter, so there may be a gap of a day or so, but don't fear: it's coming soon!
> 
> gently roast me if you see a typo, reblog [here](https://impatentpending.tumblr.com/post/619135488038666240/bother-me-a-little-bit-longer) to make my brain happy, and drop a comment to make my brain REALLY happy, Cowards


	4. You May Now Kiss the Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! The love and response on this project has just been overwhelmingly positive, and I can't thank you all enough <3
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> tws: The Split, minor body horror, pre-nsfw (NO SMUT), food, and alcohol

Patton had to physically hold Virgil and Roman back from enacting, as they called it, _plan step-dead._

When told, Logan blinked – once, twice, then nodded crisply.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, then went to stand in the hallway and scream.

Patton should’ve been mad, sitting there with Virgil and Roman ranting and raging around him. He should’ve been sad, watching Remus blubbering into a pint of BJ’s deodorant ice cream. He should’ve been upset, listening to Logan’s terse muttering about ‘no respect for notaries’ and ‘don’t have time for all this frivolous paperwork’.

Instead, all he really felt was confused.

Confused about what Janus was doing, confused about what _he_ was supposed to do now, but mostly confused about why he felt… relieved.

It didn’t make _sense._ He wanted Janus, wanted to be with him, wanted to be his partner, wanted to work with him through it all, and he could’ve sworn that Janus wanted the same thing.

He’d stringed his and Janus’s rings on a silver chain, looped under his shirt, resting against his chest. He’d found himself unconsciously reaching up to touch them, these last few days, thumbing at the cool metal through the thin cotton of his shirt.

Clutching at them for comfort before he took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Janus’ room.

“Took you long enough,” Janus drawled, not bothering to look up from where he was scribbling something at his ornate vintage desk. “I was _so concerned_ you didn’t find the invitation I totally sent out.”

“Sorry to barge in.” Patton flashed a smile, scuffing his toe against the ground. “I just… really needed to talk to you.”

Janus held up a gloved finger, and Patton nodded, letting his gaze wander around the room as Janus finished writing. It was just as classy as he would’ve expected from the other side – all shimmering golds and draping black silk, furniture tastefully vintage, with an old jukebox nestled by a wing-backed armchair.

“Right then.” Janus pushed his chair back and tilted his head at Patton, an eyebrow raised. “You _weren’t_ saying?”

Patton forced his shoulders to relax from their hunch, drawing himself with a displeased twist of his mouth. “I think I deserve an explanation for what happened, Janus.”

Janus sat there for a moment, face inscrutable, before he slumped over, suddenly looking so tired. “Yeah,” he said, softly. “You’re probably right.”

Patton padded over, curiosity nipping at his heels, settling himself at the foot of the other side’s bed.

“You see,” Janus sighed, wringing his gloved hands. “It all started when I was a baby snake, freshly hatched from my egg and slithering around upon the ground–”

“You’re actually the worst,” Patton told him.

That fanged grin, dripping with amusement, shone back at him. “No idea what you mean. I’d never _egg_ you on.”

“Like _shell_ you wouldn’t!” Patton hid his laugh behind a hand, pushing away his smile to turn a glower on the other side. “You may _crack me up,_ but I still think I deserve an explanation as to why you just walked out on our wedding night!”

“Right,” Janus drawled, “because you were _totally_ and _completely_ free of any reservations.”

“Well, I…” Patton sputtered. “I may have been a little… nervous, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to marry you!”

“Regardless.” Janus shrugged. “I meant what I said, in my vows. I’ll protect you, Patton. Even from yourself.” He flashed a sly smile. “Even from me.”

“But if you knew you were just going to divorce me _immediately_ after,” Patton huffed, “why did you bother going through the whole dog and Matri- _pony_ show?”

“You had something to prove to yourself.” Janus shrugged, elegantly. “Now, next time we get married, it won’t be out of obligation. No pressure on either of our ends.”

Patton stared at Janus, something like butterflies fluttering in his stomach. The snake smirked back.

“Next time?” Patton raised an eyebrow, fighting to hide his smile. “What makes you think I’ll marry _you,_ Mr. _Snacc_ Mamba?”

Janus flashed that fanged grin, crossing the room and taking Patton by the waist in one smooth, elegant motion. “I think you’ll find,” he murmured, lips barely brushing Patton’s. “I can be _very_ persuasive.”

They got married again a week later.

(“I hate you,” Logan said, handing over the paperwork.)

Divorced a week after that.

(“Revenge is sweet, sugar dee,” Patton said, kissing him and flouncing off.)

Married two days later.

(“if I see either of you again, I’m going to snap,” Logan said, stamping the certificate so harshly his desk cracked.)

Divorced six hours after that.

(“Because it’s _totally_ fair everyone thinks it’s my fault every time,” Janus drawled. He deftly pulled Patton out of the way when Logan threw the wadded-up certificate at his head.)

Logan had taken to boarding up his office whenever he saw them walking down the hall.

The cycle continued.

“Hey, Padre?”

“Hey, Ro! What’s up, champ?”

“Can you and Dece– Janus get remarried please?”

“Um… why? I thought you hadn’t quite tipped the _scales_ in his favor.”

“We haven’t. But… Logan said I had too much cake today, and it’s just rude _not_ to eat the cake at weddings.”

“Works for me.”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“I want.”

“I want who?”

“I want another divorce.”

“If you didn’t, I would after that joke.”

“I totally _don’t_ want to be married right now.”

“Okie-dokie.”

“Did you just eat my second cookie?”

“I would _never.”_

“I want another divorce.”

“Sweet Gerard Way, if the two of you get married again, can you please just stop arguing over who my dad is?!”

“Yeah, sure.”

 _“Totally_ doesn’t work for me.”

“Patton.”

“Yes, my dear husband?”

“Is that my chardonnay.”

“Maybe.”

“I want another divorce.”

“Aw, Jan, did you do the washing up?”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”

“You’re the sweetest.”

“This is slander.”

“Aw, then I guess _dish_ isn’t a good time to ask the world’s sweetest snake if he’d marry me.”

“Well, let’s not be overzealous here.”

“Well!” Patton stepped back, grinning. “These Christmas decorations are looking _tree-mendous.”_

He looked around, beaming, at the other sides, who were suddenly very interested in their shoes.

“Aww, come on, guys.” Patton stuck his tongue out at them. “You’re wrecking my _elf-_ esteem here.”

“Booo,” Virgil deadpanned, stepping back with a grin when Patton reached out to ruffle his hair in retaliation.

“Don’t take it personally, darling.” Janus pulled him close, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “We’ve just got a resting _Grinch_ face.”

Remus cackled with unholy glee, Roman guffawed, Virgil hid a snort beneath his hand, and even Logan cracked a smile.

Patton narrowed his eyes.

“Janus,” he gritted out. “You’ve embarrassed me at the annual Sanders Christmas party for the last time. I want another divorce.”

“Janus, stop hogging the blankets.”

“Can’t hear you, I’m asleep.”

“You’re clearly not.”

“Zzzzz.”

“Saying the letter ‘Z’ doesn’t make me think you’re asleep.”

“Zzzzz.” 

“I want a divorce. Go sleep in your bed.”

“Zzzzz.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You’re the one spooning me.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Zzzzzz.” 

“Are we divorced or not right now?” Patton panted, leaning into Janus as the snake side did something _delicious_ with his fangs against Patton’s neck.

“Oh, love,” Janus purred, swiftly untying Patton’s cardigan and letting it drop. “Does it matter?”

“I’m not doing this out of wedlock,” Patton sputtered, pushing him back.

Janus blinked. “You do know the moral attribution of ‘saving it for marriage’ was a false double-standard created by the church to control women, right?”

Patton crossed his arms. 

Janus paused. 

Sighed, heavily.

Pulled on a shirt to go find another certificate.

It was an idle Sunday afternoon in the commons when Patton sat up with a sharp gasp, dropping his knitting. “Oh no.”

“What?!” Virgil demanded, instantly on edge. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“No,” Patton muttered, burying his head in his hands. “No, no, no, I can’t believe this.”

“What?” Virgil demanded, vaulting over the couch to grab him by the shoulders. “Pat, tell me!”

Patton looked up, solemnly. “I forgot my anniversary.”

Virgil collapsed, face-forward onto the couch. “I’m going to kill you.”

“I do believe, Patton,” Logan interjected from where he was curled up on the armoire, “that, mathematically speaking, there is roughly a fifteen percent chance that any given day is your and Janus' anniversary.”

“I can’t just not do anything!” Patton fretted, rubbing at his golden ring.

“Get a divorce,” Virgil suggested dryly. “Then you don’t have to get him anything.”

“Oh!” Patton brightened up. “Good idea, kiddo!”

Virgil blanched. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean–”

“Janus!” Patton yelled up the stairs. “Happy anniversary! I got you a divorce!”

There was a prolonged silence before a ring came bouncing down the stairs.

“Goody,” Janus' voice floated down. “Just what I always wanted.”

Patton, humming to himself, went back to knitting a scarf.

Logan and Virgil made eye contact, and a silent pact to forget whatever they just witnessed, for their own sanity.

“Hey, Pat, I’ve been meaning to ask – why do you have a ring on sometimes?”

“Oh, it just depends on if me and Janus are in between divorces or not! You know how it is, kiddo.”

“...”

“Thomas?”

“Quick question: what the fuck?”

Patton and Janus sat in the quiet of Logan’s library, Patton’s head in Janus’ lap.

Janus had some philosophy book open, flipping through it with one hand and stroking Patton’s hair with the other. Patton sighed, softly, leaning into the touch, eyes closed with quiet bliss. 

Patton didn’t see the look in Janus’ eyes when he looked down at him, book forgotten. Maybe Janus wouldn’t have let him see it, soft and honest as it was. Janus was getting better about that sort of thing, about letting his intentions shine out beyond the veils and shadows he so loved, but still. It took more than soft touches to unlearn a lifetime of isolation.

Regardless, Patton did feel a sudden coolness when a gold ring found itself on the hand petting him.

He looked up at Janus, smiling softly, but the snake stalwartly didn’t look at him, perusing his book. Patton just closed his eyes again, nestling closer, and sliding his own ring on once more.

“Wait,” Thomas said, at his and Roman’s weekly margarita self-care party, “so you’re telling me my _morality_ and my _deceit_ have gotten married? Multiple times?!”

“Eh, they argue a lot, you know how it is.” Roman shrugged, casually, taking a sip. “We used to think it was Jan’s fault all the time, but Patton _has_ been the mayor of Much-kin land in the past so… eh. They’re still our dads – divorced or not. Easier just to go along with it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Logan, sulking in the corner, muttered, and took another shot.

“Hey, Popality and Dadceit?”

Remus skittered along the ceiling above them, smiling down.

“Hello, problem child,” Janus deadpanned, tilting his head up.

“Can I be the flower girl next time you get married?” Remus flashed big, pleading eyes at them. “It’s no fair Roman keeps getting to do it!”

“Oh, you’re right.” Patton made a small noise of sympathy. “Of course you can, Rem! We’ll try to fix that, I pinky promise.”

“Aw, thanks, daddy-kins! Love you!” Remus skittered off, long nails digging into the popcorned ceiling.

“Love you too, kiddo,” Patton called after him. “Anyway, Janus, like I was saying… Janus? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Janus kissed him, softly. “Nothing at all. I just… don’t think we should make Remus wait that long, hm?”

“Well.” Patton smiled, tucking his head on the snake’s shoulder. “Seems only fair.”

“Roman.”

“Janus.”

“Did you just propose to Patton… for me?”

“Listen, I love you both, but I’ve been designing this wedding dress for months, and if neither of you wear it, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  
  


“...thus underscoring my point that you should just stay married from a philosophical, religious, and logical standpoint, among others.” Logan stepped back from his presentation with a satisfied nod. “I will now accept questions from the audience.”

Patton and Janus, the only ones sat on the couch, shot each other bemused glances.

“Lo,” Patton said with a gentle smile. “If you wanted us to get married again, you could’ve just said so!”

“But then we’d never have the absolute _joy_ of sitting through a fifty slide powerpoint.” Janus rolled his eyes, arm stretched along the back of the couch to toy with the hair at the nape of Patton’s neck. 

“I do not _want_ anything,” Logan said, tartly, sliding his pointer closed. “I merely believe it would be beneficial for all parties if the two of you were to cement your status as husbands permanently. It’s only logical to stop this endless back and forth.”

“Oh, so then you won’t mind at all if we just stay divorced permanently, hm?” Janus arched an eyebrow.

 _“No!”_ Logan blanched, drawing himself up and adjusting his tie. “I mean… ahem. No. That would be largely counterproductive.”

“But why?” Janus flashed his fanged grin. “If ending this ‘back and forth’ is all you want.”

“Oh, well.” Logan adjusted his glasses, floundering. “Hm. I suppose, that from a logical, rational viewpoint that is- ah–”

“Jan, don’t be a tattle-snake,” Patton interrupted, gently elbowing the other side. “He just wants his dads together.”

“Ahem. Yes. Well.” Logan shuffled his feet. “Seeing as the two of you seem to achieve a higher level of functionality, from a purely objective standpoint, when wedded than otherwise, combined with the level of domestic endeavors and emotional care-taking the two of you engage in, such as ensuring I take breaks for mental health purposes, leading to a higher quality of production, that is… not an entirely inaccurate statement. Patton. No. Patton. Stop hugging me. You are not my father.”

“Yes I am.”

“...yes you are.”

  
  


It was a wedding where they said it, or perhaps an anniversary, or even one of those divorces they decided to treat with as much pomp as their other sort of ceremonies.

It didn’t matter why, not really. There was just a tipping point – Janus, handsome as always in that slim-fit suit, smiling as he listened to Roman ramble about his most recent project. There was just a thought, far-removed from a realization, like sliding asleep so smoothly you didn’t realize you were there until dreams held you close – _oh._ There was just a feeling, warm and glowing and bubbling like so much champagne – fountaining in Patton’s chest as he watched Janus, his husband (upon occasion) take care of their kids with so much love.

And that’s what it was, really. Love.

Patton had thought, once upon a time, he could fall in love with Janus if he wasn’t careful, but now, as the snake slithered to his side, hand held out in a familiar invitation, lights low and eyes bright, Patton couldn’t bring himself to regret his recklessness.

He took his hand.

They swayed more than danced, too worn-out from running after Roman and Remus, calming Virgil, reassuring Logan, and protecting Thomas to do much else. 

It was warmer than Patton would’ve thought, once, in the snake’s embrace. Safer. Pressed against his husband, arms around each other, Patton was drop-dead tired, of course, but he knew neither of them would fall. 

Patton tucked his head into the crook of his husband’s neck, breathing his words against the other side’s skin. “I love you, Janus.”

He could feel the surprise course through the other side, wiry muscles tensing, but he just shook his head, nestling closer. “Don’t say it back. Not until you’re ready.”

“Patton,” Janus breathed, voice strained. “I–”

“Hey now.” Patton pulled back, tapping his nose lightly with the end of his finger. “This is my moment, Mister Sanders. Get your own.”

“Alright then, Mister Sanders.” Janus laughed, softly, leaning in to rub their noses together. “Guess I’ll just have to let you know I love you later, then. It would be terribly improper to say it now.”

“It just wouldn’t do for a married couple to tell each other they love each other.” Patton smiled, glowing as he tucked himself back into the other side’s arms. “Whatever would the neighbors say?”

“All sorts of things,” Janus murmured into his curls, and it sounded like a confession, a poem, a prayer. “All sorts of dreadful things.”

Which is probably why it stung so much a week later when Janus announced, casually kicking his feet up on the couch, that he wanted another divorce.

“Oh.” A sinking pit settled in the bottom of Patton’s stomach. He swallowed hard, fisting his hands together. “You… you do?”

“Yes? Is that a prob–” He glanced up, then did a double take, on his feet and crouched beside Patton the next moment. “Hey, hey. Darling, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Patton stammered, wiping at his eyes. “I know I’m being silly, but I just thought that once we said it and you knew I loved you, you wouldn’t want to…” He cut himself off with a hiccup, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Patton, love, is that what you think this was all about?” Janus wiped a stray tear away with a gloved thumb, cradling his face. “Oh, honey, no. Patton, I’ve loved you all along.”

“Then why?!” Patton demanded, pushing him away. He rose to his feet, face scarlet, eyes and nose running. “If you’ve loved me this whole time, then why can’t we just… _stay_ together?”

“I told you.” Janus rose to his feet, slow and graceful as ever. It almost infuriated Patton, how he couldn’t help but admire his on-again-off-again husband, even now. “I’m trying to teach you a lesson.”

“Are…” Patton stared at him, eyes burning. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me? You’re still– I thought we were past that by now!”

“Oh, yes,” Janus hissed. “You’ve more than made up for it.”

“Okay!” Patton waved an arm. “Then forgive me if I don’t see the problem here!”

“Then divorce me,” Janus snapped. “Get rid of me, just like you used to, without a shred of sympathy. Or better yet, sweep past it without another thought, a single apology.”

“Janus, what are you talking about? Of course I–” Patton cut himself off. “Oh.”

Janus glowered at the ground with those mismatched eyes, arms crossed, and Patton felt himself wilt.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Patton asked, softly. “I never said I’m sorry. For any of it.”

“And to think, they called you slow on the uptake.”

Patton sat next to him, movements slow, ginger, but the snake didn’t look up.

“Janus, I…” His chest twisted. “When you apologized to Roman, all that stuff about trust…”

“We’re supposed to set an example for our children, aren’t we?” Janus’ mouth twisted. “Sure are doing a _swell_ job of that.”

“Honey, why didn’t you ever just ask?” Patton laid a hand over Janus’, but he snatched it away, coiling into himself. “I’m not a mind reader, Sugar Dee.”

“Because I’m _clearly_ the best at dealing with emotions between the two of us.”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Patton’s mouth twisted. “What happened to being partners, huh? You gotta trust me with this stuff.”

“I _totally don’t,_ I just…” Janus flexed his fingers, scowling. “I thought you would’ve gotten sick of me by now. And by the time I realized you wouldn’t, it seemed… petty, to pick back up. So I didn’t know what else to do but marry you. Then divorce you. Rinse and repeat. By the time I realized I’m in love with you, I… I couldn’t risk anything changing between us, or between the kids.”

“Change, huh?” Patton smiled, sadly. “I think that was my excuse too. You ever loved someone so much, you didn’t want anything about them to change?”

Janus’ hand brushed his. “Something like that.”

Patton huffed out a laugh, letting his head fall sideways to its favorite rest on Janus’ shoulder. “I always thought Thomas was perfect. That he was going to be the same, sweet, loving kiddo that he was when he was little, no matter what. From the very beginning, I loved him with everything in me. But… he did change. He has you, and Remus, and the others, but… I was so scared that if he wasn’t the same, I couldn’t love him with the same _heart-_ iness. I couldn’t be what he needed from me. So I pushed you out. And when you showed me how much he had changed, I was so caught up in learning how to love him all over, I didn’t even bother looking back at all the damage I left, even though I told myself I would.”

Silently, Janus tilted his head, scales brushing against Patton’s forehead.

“I shouldn’t have tried to gain your trust without making amends for my mistakes in the past,” Patton recalled, softly. “I should’ve apologized, rather than brushed past it. That was wrong of me. I was just so desperate that I didn’t care what I did. Who I hurt. That’s no excuse, I know, but it’s all I can say. I was wrong, Janus. I’m sorry.”

“Genuinely impressed by how much of that you remembered,” Janus commented.

Patton snorted, softly, nudging him. “I’m trying to have a moment here.”

“That was more than a moment. Several moments. A minute, if you will.”

“I _minute_ when I say you’re ridiculous.”

“I _minute_ when I say I love you.”

Patton sputtered, flushing. “You can’t just switch it up on me like that!”

“What are you doing to do” – Janus shot him a fanged grin – “divorce me?”

“I might,” Patton said, raising his nose in the air, fighting to hide his smile. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Right.” Janus took his hand, and their rings clinked, gently. “Of course I don’t.”

They sat there a moment longer, minds settling, before Janus spoke again, soft enough for both of them to ignore:

“I forgive you, Patton. I’m alright.” He squeezed their hands together. “We’re alright.”

And they were.

  
  


But Patton wasn’t. At least, not entirely. 

Divorced, married, divorced, married, divorced… the cycle repeated, this time tinged with amusement, rather than confusion. An inside joke, rather than an inside grudge. This wasn’t the problem, or even a problem at all, but it reminded him of The Problem, buzzing like a gnat at the edges of his mind.

So it was with no small amount of trepidation, mixed with relief, that he sat the twins down, a little while later.

“Hi.” He flashed a smile, tugging at his hair. “I’m, uh. Not exactly sure how to do this.”

“Everything good, Padre?” Roman tilted his head. “You’re looking more gaunt than a ghastly ghoul.”

Remus flashed that too-sharp grin. “Need us to kill someone for ya?”

“No,” Patton said, voice tempered by wry indulgence. “No, I just… I needed to apologize.”

The twins darted perplexed looks at each other.

“I know things have been different lately, but that doesn’t excuse me just brushing past what happened before.” Patton reached out and took each of their hands. “Roman, I’m sorry for putting you up on a pedestal, making you feel like you had to be perfect all the time. You’re not, and that’s okay, because it doesn’t mean that I love you any less.”

Roman barely had time to look absolutely floored before Patton turned his attention onto Remus.

“And Remus, I know I’ve been just awful to you before. It wasn’t fair of me to treat you for _what_ you are, without even taking the time to get to know _who_ you are. I’m so, so sorry. You’re one of my kiddos, alright? I love you.”

Remus sat, stock-still, for one, two, three seconds, then Patton’s vision was obscured by a black mesh shirt. Remus clinged to him, blubbering, and Roman, not to be outdone, wrapped both of them in his arms, peppering Patton with tearful accolades.

“Hey, hey!” Patton protested, laughing, wriggling himself out of their grasps. “I’m not done.”

“What on earth could you possibly apologize for, pop-corny?” Roman sniffled, summoning a mirror to bemoan the state of his eyeliner.

“Well, I…” Patton cleared his throat, looking down at my lap. “It’s kinda my fault that you’re… here.”

There was a moment of pure, unadulterated silence.

Patton cringed, but when no reprimandations came, he looked up, and suddenly he had no idea how he could’ve ever mistaken either of the twins for _him,_ not when there was that much love in their eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Patton,” Roman said, gently, before flashing a grin. “I mean, where would you be without my magnificent presence?

“Dickwad’s right.” Remus grinned. “I like being me just fine.”

“Besides.” Roman shrugged and very stalwartly didn’t look at Remus. “It isn’t… terrible. Having a brother.”

“Is that right?” Remus elbowed him, grinning. “Because I think you’re the worst.”

“Statement rescinded. You’re an asshole.”

“Thank you! I try.”

They devolved into bickering, insults shot with far too much affection, as Patton sat back, watching, something very warm settling in his chest.

“I’ll leave you _two_ to it, then!” Patton chirped, standing, only to be hit by twin puppy dog eyes.

“Nooo,” Remus whined.

“We were gonna run lines for our musical,” Roman pouted.

“And we need someone to be the blood sacrifice!”

“Who gets rescued by the brave, valiant knight!”

“Pleeeeeeese?” They chimed in unison.

“Later kiddos,” Patton soothed, gently. “Pinky promise. I just got something super duper important to do, alright?”

Remus blew a raspberry and Roman grumbled, but they assented, and Patton left them, with only a ruffle of the hair each.

He padded down the hallway of bedrooms, pausing to rap on Logan’s door lightly, calling out a gentle instruction to _“take a break, okay, kiddo?”_

There was no response from inside, and Patton frowned, knocking again. “Lo?”

There was a vague grunt, and Patton poked his head inside.

Logan was curled up on his bed, wrapped in the TARDIS snuggie Patton had given him, reading a book he recognized from Janus’ bookshelf.

“Everything quite alright, Patton?” Logan asked, absently, nestling further into his blanket.

Patton leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “Just checking in.”

“Reading,” Logan said, simply, not looking up. “You’re welcome to join.”

“Maybe later,” Patton promised. “Thanks, Logi.”

Logan hummed, flipping another page.

Patton retreated, smiling to himself.

He kept going, down the hall, only to be drawn by voices to the chipping purple door – through the crack, he could see Virgil, hiding his face in his hood and Janus, grinning viciously.

“You’re the worst,” Virgil hissed, hands pressed to his face.

“I’m well aware,” Janus purred, looking like the snake that got the mouse. “But I happen to be the _worst_ to help you out with that little crush of yours.”

“Why did I tell you about him?” Virgil groaned, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the other side.

Janus dodged it neatly, grinning. “What, being married fifty million times doesn’t qualify me to give relationship advice?”

“Dad, stop,” Virgil begged, face flaming. “It’s not a big deal, I swear. I’ll just suffer in silence forever, easy.”

“Virgil, do stop trying to steal my job, hm?” Janus knocked shoulders with him. “I’m supposed to be the liar here.”

“You boys having fun?” Patton interrupted, gently.

“I’m suffering,” Virgil groaned, flopping back on his bed and reaching out for Patton. “Save me, dad.”

“We’re just discussing Virgil being... _royally_ screwed,” Janus said, smoothly, biting back a grin when Virgil buried his face in his hands. “No big deal.”

“Come hang out,” Virgil implored. “I need rescue.”

“What you _need_ is a strategy,” Janus corrected, laughing when Virgil flipped him off.

“Marrying and divorcing someone a gazillion times isn’t an effective flirting strategy,” Virgil said.

“Yes it is,” Janus and Patton said, simultaneously.

“And I’d love to,” Patton continued, smiling at the wink Janus sent his way, ignoring Virgil’s gagging sounds, “but I’ve… I’ve got something to do.”

“Everything good?” Virgil tilted his head, frowning.

“Fine!” Patton chirped, ignoring the way Janus’ forked tongue flickered out, his mismatched eyes narrowing. “Just a ‘lil personal project.”

He ducked away before they could protest, and the two former dark sides sat there, sharing a confused glance.

“Should I…?”

“Yeah, probably.”

 _“Not_ what I thought at all.”

“Later, dad.”

“Love you, Virgil.”

“Ugh, love you too or whatever.”

There was a split, between Roman’s and Remus’s halves of the imagination, a gray area with sharp rocks and floating strains of mist, and an utter, desolate silence, but pushing on further, walking until your legs ached and you had to stop and rest a few times, there was a sunshine-drenched field.

Nothing moved there, not even Patton’s shadow, pristinely preserved in memory as it was.

“Hey,” Patton said, softly, kneeling in the grass. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Nothing stirred.

“A lot’s happened recently. I got married!” Patton laughed, reaching up to touch the two rings, hanging on a thin chain beneath his shirt. It had become inconvenient, at some point, to slide them on and off so often, so Patton had taken to keeping them, right above his heart. It was nice, having a bit of Janus with him, no matter what. “A couple times, actually. To Jan. I bet you’d love that, huh?”

He reached out and sank his fingers in the perfectly still grass, feeling the heat of the sun-warmed earth. “I mean, you’re the one who married us in the first place.”

He swallowed hard, trying on a smile. “I guess I should thank you for that. It started… a whole lot of craziness, but I think I can say that craziness is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’re okay, now. All of us. We’re okay.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You aren’t though, are you? You aren’t much of anything now.”

He scrubbed at his eyes before they could fog over, thinking of a gap-toothed grin and a cardboard crown and a lightning-quick temper and an insurmountable pride and someone who, in the end, had just been a child.

“I don’t know if I was wrong,” Patton admitted, softly. “That’s terrible, isn’t it? I know I did something, something really bad to you. You scared me, you know? You were so _vivid,_ so much, that I never knew how you’d spill over. Everything about you was moving, creating, _changing,_ and I… I’m not good with change.

“I might’ve been wrong. I might not have been. I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I really don’t. All I do know is that I… I can’t bring myself to regret it. Not when it gave me Roman and Remus. And I know that’s so terribly selfish of me, but…” A smile lifted the corner of his lips. “Lately, I’ve been learning it’s okay, to be just a little selfish. I’m no good at it, not really, but I’ve had some help.”

His smile fell. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear that. I just… I’m awful at this sort of thing, I’m afraid. Making apologies. We’re all working on it – Jan had a heart-to-heart with all the kiddos before we even got married the fourth time, and I’ve been making the rounds too, but… it’s always hard, isn’t it? I’m no good at moving on. No matter how much you push the envelope, it’s still _stationary,_ you know?”

Patton laid back, looking at the stillness of the past sky – an endless blue with cotton-candy puffs of white. “I think I will, though, however hard it’s gonna be. I… I think I like where the future is going to go.”

The heat in his eyes prickled, finally spilling over. “I wish you could see it.”

He laid there, in the stillness of the past, for a moment more before rising to his feet. “Thanks for indulging me, kiddo. I’ll get out of your hair now, don’t worry.”

Patton brushed himself off, looking around that place, frozen forever, one last time.

“Good bye, Romulus. I’m sorry.”

He left, head heavy but heart just a little bit lighter, and he didn’t see the mismatched eyes, shining out of the forest at him.

It was that same afternoon that Janus snapped, out of the blue, that he wanted another divorce.

He looked at Patton expectantly, one gloved hand held out, but Patton just stayed there, curled on the couch with his book, confused.

“I’m pretty sure we’re not married right now,” Patton said, eventually.

“I’m aware.” Janus made the same impatient gesture. “Rings, Patton. I know you kept them since last time.”

Patton flushed, freckles dark against the sudden redness of his cheeks, but he fished under his shirt to pull out that thin chain, golden rings clicking softly against each other on the end.

Janus hummed in satisfaction, wrapping his arms around the back of Patton’s neck and pressing himself against Patton’s front for one dizzying moment.

“What’s this one for, then?” Patton asked, as Janus stepped back, unclasped chain in hand, and slid the rings off.

Janus shrugged, elegantly. “You’re bothering me.”

Patton laughed, softly, as Janus lifted Patton’s hand and slid on the ring with an etching of an eye. “What is this to prove, Janus? That I’ll always say yes?” 

He gently removed Janus' glove, letting his smooth, warm skin press against his own for a moment, before sliding the ring etched with a heart into his finger. “That I’ll still love you, every time?”

Janus took his hand back, but he didn’t pull his glove on, instead staring at Patton with those mismatched eyes, warm.

“Well,” he said, eventually, a smirk coiling the edges of his lips. “I may be wrong, what with all the controversy we’ve had over weddings, but I do believe it’s customary to kiss the groom.”

So Patton did.

It was soft, chaste, nothing like the frantic, messy clashes they had so often shared before, but when Janus took Patton’s hand and their rings _clinked_ together gently, Patton couldn’t help his shiver.

“Well,” Janus purred, pulling away. “That’s that then.”

He turned and started sauntering off when Patton called after him. 

“Um, Janus?”

The snake glanced over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. “Yes, husband mine?”

Patton pushed down the feeling in his belly like butterflies had hatched and were crawling over each other, tickling his sides with their paper-thin wings.

“Weren’t you going to… you know… divorce me?” He flashed a wry grin. “I thought I was bothering you.”

But Janus just smiled. 

“Why don’t you bother me a little bit longer?” he asked. “I think I’ll see how long this one lasts.”

(As it turned out, it would be for the rest of their lives.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some lovey art by my dear friend Momo you can check out [here](https://mowuune.tumblr.com/post/619115184399712256/he-said-and-kissed-him-this-is-drawn-from-the) and there have been a /ton/ of hilarious memes and edits sent in you can find on my blog!
> 
> I'm hoping to come out with a new chapter of Kill the Lights soon, but who knows with me ;p
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Reblog [here](https://impatentpending.tumblr.com/post/619320543084167168/bother-me-a-little-bit-longer) if you're so inclined, leave kudos or bookmark, drop a comment to give me human interaction, and ROAST ME (with luv) IF YOU SEE A TYPO, COWARDS

**Author's Note:**

> The newest episode really got me out here writing moceit, huh.  
> (also, may I say, as a Janus stan since day one, i am v i n d i c a t e d.)
> 
> This fic is entirely finished (albeit pending beta reading), so don't expect to wait long for the rest of it! I originally planned on uploading it as a 19k one-shot, but it was pointed out to me by several parties that some may be put off by it in one body, so I'm splitting it up into four, more digestible, chunks.
> 
> Plus, more chapters means more comments >:3c
> 
> I know normally I ask people to roast me if they see typos, but I recently got several... genuinely upsettingly rude... comments on another fic, so if you see any mistakes roast me /with love/, Cowards.
> 
> See you soon!


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